


What The Music Is For (SpAus)

by artistocrazy



Series: The Demon Family AU [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-05-29 01:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 106,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15062432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artistocrazy/pseuds/artistocrazy
Summary: In the summer of 1991, the Cold War barriers are not the only walls that are falling. Roderich Edelstein, a burnt out musical virtuoso from Salzburg, Austria, is struggling to expand his horizons while studying abroad in Seville, Spain. That is, until he meets Señora Carmen Fernández Carriedo - a bold and talented flamenco dancer and fellow student kind enough to take pity on his poor language and dance skills while she plots out her own professional path. Faced with the certainty of their developing feelings for each other and the uncertainty of their surroundings and career paths, can these two kids keep pace with their industries and forge successful paths with their passions, musical or otherwise?Inspired and collaborated from a bunch of headcannons with schnano and originally based on their AU for Heart Strings and Boys in the Band.





	1. Heatstroke or An Actual Vision?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late May, 1991, Seville, Spain.  
> A Friday night.
> 
> To play or be played? That is the question Roderich can't answer or identify within a new culture while trying not to sound like an idiot in front of a cute Spanish girl who makes his head spin in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have decided to include Spanish and Austrian German in this story. This is a ballsy move - I'm not a linguist, and I don't speak either very well. For the large chunks of the language, I'll include translations for them in the comments in English of what I'm trying to have the characters say. If you speak either language and would like to offer me linguistics help, please feel free to comment with your corrections. I need all the help I can get, frankly. I will do my best to update the translations as best as I can.

Haydn, Strauss, Schubert, and Mozart - standard composers with seemingly standard compositions in Roderich Edelstein's standard performance repertoire. Nothing special about it. Locations changed every now and then, maybe, but Roderich had played these pieces flawlessly in succession so many times since he was eight that he could perform them sleeping.

However, despite how mundane this routine felt, Roderich was grateful to have an excuse to leave his dorm and expose himself to the streets of Seville as they cooled off with the evening. The sweltering heat had not been kind to him upon beginning his study abroad experience, so going out for classes in the morning had been adventures on their own and socializing was not something he excelled at, even in the cool, mountain air he was accustomed to. This isn't even to mention adjusting to the altitude. He could barely imagine what it would be like to also have to adjust to the time difference - thankfully they were in the same zone!

With all of these variables, he jumped at the chance to perform at night, if he was ever going to have an excuse to get the most of his time away from Salzburg. Then again, he wouldn't completely be immersed in Spanish culture, considering he was performing at a multicultural festival. It was a start, and he was also getting paid - such is the life of a musician.

Compliments had also become standard at this point. Not to say that they weren't appreciated - it was just that being a virtuoso ruined compliments - sort of like how being one could ruin music. Absentmindedly, he would answer the people who would marvel at his skill while he would keep playing - not for lack of appreciation but more for lack of general enthusiasm and the presence of a job to be done.

At one point in the evening, however, this tune changed. Another student who was also playing at the festival was on break and stuck around to listen and watch. What differentiated this student from the rest was her interjections and physical movement in relation to this repertoire, all in English. Typical American, no doubt. It would have been a nice change of pace if Roderich weren't such a stickler for etiquette.

After finishing with a minuet, he decided it would be a good time to take a break - hydration was mandatory, even if the sun was down. Served him right for deciding to study in the hottest city in Europe. At least there wasn't a lot of humidity - he might have been more likely to actually pass out than just threatening to do it.

"Oh my god, man!" She rattled on, excitedly, "You are so incredible! You're like a rock star! Like, a classical music star! Dude, have you ever seen that film  _Amadeus_?"

"It's not like I've been playing any of the music from it at all tonight... I've seen it once or twice." A little white lie to be polite, or a snarky joke? The American standing in front of him might not have ever known.

"You remind me so much of the main guy!" She stated, bringing her hand to her chin as if she were trying to recall something.

This comment piqued his interest slightly. "Do you mean Mozart?"

She waved her hand dismissively.

"No, no - the other guy. The guy who won the Oscar."

While his face and shoulders drooped with irritation upon taking in the backhanded compliment, her bright blue eyes grew wider as she chucked. "You kind of look like him, too, actually!"

Another blow to his ego - what a great way to start socializing.

"Thanks." He had grown so used to these sorts of interactions that his monotone response felt automated.

After the American was done laughing at her own observation, she sighed a bit and went back to attempting to praise the musician. "But seriously, dude. I've never seen anyone play like you before, and I've been around that circuit with my guitar! It really was incredible to watch."

Roderich was still a bit sore from the things she said, and found it difficult to pull himself out of his irritation. "Thanks. I do birthday parties, bar-mitzvahs, and apparently most elevator rides," he responded, some acid seeping through in his voice.

Somewhat urgently, the American lifted her hands: "Please don't stop!" she pleaded loudly, "I have to grab my friend to see you play! She would be so impressed!"

"I'm sure she would be." He responded, having difficulty wrangling in his sarcasm.

Realizing he might have sounded stand-offish, he looked up at the American backhandedly praising him and tried changing his tone to sound more appreciative. "She has five minutes before I start again."

"Rad! I'll be sure she makes a hussle!"

Roderich nodded absentmindedly before standing up to give himself a decent stretch. After all, he had been playing for a while, and he really did need to work on hydrating and getting used to the lower altitude. While concentrating on loosening up again, he heard a few crashes from the crowd, but before he could wonder if there had been an accident he had heard the same, higher pitched voice from earlier: "Excuse me! Hey! Pardon me! Coming through! Hot stuff! Yo! Out of the way!"

He felt bad for whoever she was dragging around to find him. While twisting to crack his back, he heard the same voice up close again and a little winded.

"Okay, I found her! Play, don!"

He wrinkled his brow at what sounded like a command from this woman, but he relented and played something out of the repertoire for his own sanity: Franz Lizst's Liebestraum No 3. Despite the lack of practice compared to the other pieces, the fluid motion he felt in this piece possessed him to sway in and out as he continued, the melody practically rolling off of his fingers. The silence he noticed while he played was chilling, as if the world was concentrating along with him in playing this piece. Thankfully, he was able to get through the more difficult parts of the piece before he felt the affects of the low altitude, but he would be damned if he was going to let his health get the best of him in playing a Liszt piece.

As he finished off, he could still feel the silence of the audience even as he extended the ending chords. Once he removed his hands, he was greeted with rigorous applause from the small crowd that gathered to see him play. A small swell of pride may have possessed him in that moment, but he could finally allow himself to give into the tiredness he felt, so the feeling was short lived.

If anything, the pride he felt for that moment might as well have been absorbed by that American girl boasting about his musical prowess to her friend: "What did I tell you? A star! What a goddamn pro! Pretty great, right?"

This friend looked up at the musician panting discretely and leaning onto his keyboard in awe of what she had just witnessed him play. She would be lying if she said she wasn't impressed by what she had heard, saw, and felt.

"Sí, Mia! You really have quite a talent, Señor!" Roderich figured he might as well show the same courtesy he showed this Mia by looking up to actually acknowledge his audience.

"Yes, I know, thank you v-" suddenly his deadpan expression revived as his eyes grew wide upon meeting the most vivid shade of green he had ever seen in another pair before, looking right at him. The face connected to such eyes was also just as charming and rounded as those eyes - button nose, apply cheeks, dimples, and sweetly curved lips, all being masked under dark auburn waves. The charm of this woman's presence and her smile brought a lump up in his throat and a returning sweat from the celestial lady against whom the sun could barely compete.

Taking a moment to clear his throat, he finally thought to sound friendlier to his audience. Easier said than done. "Please excuse me. I must still not be used to the altitude yet. It gets late enough in the evening, and you forget your manners."

"Oh, do you now?" She said, with a smirk and a laugh. "Well, thankfully for you you're among good company. I don't have the best manners this late, either." She continued to giggle and she scrunched her nose very cutely. 

 _Wait_ , Rod thought to himself,  _Did she think that was an innuendo?_ Did he accidentally put out an innuendo? Was that culturally appropriate? Was that even socially appropriate anywhere? What did this mean? Was she responding with one back or was she just being cute? Oh, where was his guidebook when he needed it?

"Oh, please excuse me. I am so sorry. That was quite rude of me. I didn't mean-"

"You're fine, honestly!" she reassured him, waving her hand like it were nothing. "You play very beautifully."

The warmth of the compliment actually breached whatever had numbed hearing others before, to his own surprize and confusion. "Oh, well, gracias, Señora."

Her nose scrunched up again as she stifled a laugh - she was so cute it was ridiculous and he tried to downplay a small, sheepish laugh of his own. Pinching the bridge of her nose and looking towards the ground, she waved a hand apologetically. "I'm sorry. Now  _I'm_  being rude!"

If he thought he was lost before, he apparently entered a new world of confusion at all of these silly outbursts. "What's so funny?"

Amelia broke in while the lady was biting her hand: "She's laughing at your accent, dude."

Amelia's friend shook her head and looked down, slightly ashamed at herself. "I'm really sorry!" her friend kept at it, "It's very immature, I know, and you're trying your best. It just sounds so funny to me."

Amelia reached her hand to pat Roderich on the shoulder - a gesture Roderich wasn't quite ready for. "If it makes you feel better, she did the same thing with me when I got here."

"I do it with everybody," the lady interjected again, playfully reprimanding herself. She tried to stand up straight again and lift her hands up to express her shame, but she still was not fully over whatever bubbly feeling that controlled her a second ago, "I  _promise_ I'm not making fun of you. Please don't be upset! Your Spanish is probably fine."

Roderich looked up and squinted, as if he were briefly thinking over his response and quickly shook his head. "No, it really isn't," he corrected her with a shy smile, "You have every right to laugh at it. But I am here to learn in the first place. Maybe by the time the semester is over I'll be as proficient as a toddler."

Amelia suddenly looked very seriously at the musician in front of her and placed her hand on his shoulder again. "Dude, wait a minute - are you a student here?"

Roderich, who was taken aback at the contact from this woman all over again, responded as if on command once he was able to collect himself: "For this summer, yes."

To his relief, Amelia backed away shaking her head, looking him over somewhat judgmentally. "Dude, you don't dress like a student."

Most students, or even people, for that matter, didn't dress up as much as this man. He dressed much nicer than he needed to, but also much warmer than he needed to, which the lady noticed and cut in over.

"Which isn't to say that wearing a lot of layers is  _smart_ in Sevilla. You stand out in more ways than one, I see."

Roderich bit his lip as he smiled sheepishly from the compliments from this Spanish girl - he wanted to believe they were genuine, but it was hard to tell for sure. He knew that he probably overdid it, and he was starting to expect the remarks.

He bit his hand for a second in thought before addressing Amelia, curiously: "What is that saying you Americans have about the horse?"

Amelia pouted for a second, trying to recall one, "What, you mean don't look a gift horse in the mouth?"

Roderich thought about it for a second, but shook his head, thinking a little harder on it: "No, isn't there one about a performing horse?"

"You mean a one trick pony!" Amelia said confidently.

Roderich brought his hand down and snapped his fingers into a point to affirm her: "Yes! I think that's the one! I mean to say that perhaps I have more than one of these tricks... Or at least I  _suppose_ that I do... It's highly possible I'm using this phrase incorrectly."

Another snicker escaped through the Spanish lady's nose before she spoke again. "Well, I hope to see more of them and more of you while you're here for the summer. Bienvenidos a Sevilla, Señor..?"

Rod had to catch himself for a moment - he was so busy taking in the sing-songy nature of her voice that he forgot she was actually talking to him. "Oh! Edelstein. My name is Roderich Edelstein."

"Wow, that's quite a Spanish name you've got there!" Amelia nudged her friend's shoulder.

*The lady nudged her back before moving towards him and kissing his cheeks. If Roderich hadn't been flustered before, he was completely frozen in place, with the kisses applying the freezer burn. Amelia bit her lip to silence the snickering about to come out through her nose. "Carmen Fernández Carriedo. Mucho gusto, Roderich."

Roderich tried desperately to grasp onto some semblance of the Spanish that he knew, which admittedly wasn't much - he had a ways to go. He only hoped this response atleast sounded correct: "Igualmente."

Carmen's laughter signalled that maybe he'd made a mistake, but atleast he hadn't insulted her - had he? To her, his accent really was so goofy to hear on top of even the simplest of words.* Roderich observed her again, thinking her excessive laughter was a bit odd, but it wasn't necessarily off-putting.

"You really do laugh a lot, don't you, Miss Fernández? Or is it Miss Carriedo?" Hearing him attempt to pronounce her last names was certainly adorable, considering how he was apparently trying so hard not to offend.

"It's Carmen to you. Hearing you speak any more Spanish just yet might make me drop to the ground laughing!"

The musician then looked to the ground and shrugged. "Again," he said, "that's part of why I'm here."

"To get me to drop to the ground?" She peered up at him, biting her lip suggestively. Amelia was hiding her face in her hands, clearly ready to burst at the sudden comment. Carmen would habitually flirt for fun, and it was hilarious to see her victims try to recover.

Roderich was too stunned to think of a witty response on his feet, lest he possibly offend her. If he knew the culture better maybe he could have responded with something to match the intensity of that last quip. Unfortunately, he was stuck grasping for a safe recovery in his head before Carmen interjected with an "I'm kidding!".

Amelia turned on her heals and groaned out of her fit. Roderich stood stiffly, ironically frozen from apprehension. If Carmen was going to be merciful, then watching this wasn't going to be as fun as Amelia hoped it would be.

"Seriously, Carmen, give it a rest! Look at the poor man! He's got the rest of his show to play! You know how it is!"

At the mention of a possible understanding about performing, Roderich began to thaw out of standing so stiffly enough to speak again. "Oh? Are you also a performer, too, Señora?" he asked, trying to be conversational again like nothing happened.

Carmen rolled her eyes and sighed shakily, answering him with a smirk. "Please just call me Carmen, unless you  _want_ to hear me laugh like a fool for the rest of the summer!"

 _The rest of the summer, huh?_  He thought. Maybe there was hope.

Letting the little ghost of optimism return to him in their conversation, a small smile peeked its way onto his face again. "You seem confident that we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

Carmen grinned up at him in a friendly way - an oddly genuine smile after all of the flirtation and jokes at his expense. "If you'll be hanging around the conservatory, which I figure you will be, then I'm sure we will." Upon seeing him genuinely grin back at her, Carmen dropped her gaze to the ground as a blush came over her cheeks. His smile was much cuter than she thought it would be.

Once she downplayed the blush, she corrected her posture and gazed up at him confidently. "I'll let you know what I do when I see you there."

Gazing back down at her, his brow furrowed slightly, but he still refrained from taking on a seductive tone. Really, his response was more innocent than anything. "You're sure we'll see each other again soon enough for you to remember?"

Carmen shrugged at this question and tucked some stray hair that made its way to her face back behind her ear. "If nothing else, it gives us an excuse to talk to each other again."

Roderich rubbed the back of his neck, partially to relieve any strain on it but also to have an excuse to not keep staring at her. "That's fair," he agreed. He placed his hands down on his hips but didn't look up yet - he was starting to regret misplacing his campus map. "Hopefully, I can find this conservatory building," he muttered.

"Did you ever get a map of the campus?" Carmen asked, tilting her head up at him.

"Actually, I might have lost it already," he responded, sheepishly.

Carmen shook her head, reaching into her bag and rummaging around, "Here, you can take one of mine." She paused for a brief moment: "Before you do," she said, "do you have a pen on you?" 

In an awkward attempt to seem suave, he pulled the pencil from on top of his ear and handed it to her with a sweeping gesture of his hand. He had almost bent over in a bow to present it to her. "A true musician never goes anywhere without a pencil," he announced grandly, wiggling his eyebrows. She laughed much louder this time, throwing her head back - an outburst he wasn't fully sure was laughing with him or at him.

She snatched the pencil out of his hand with a quick pull, and she scribbled something on her map, all the while peering up at him and smirking. Once she had finished, she placed the pencil back on his ear, causing him to blush at the contact. She then handed him the map, which now had her telephone number on it. Upon reading it over, he only became more flustered and looked more and more like a deer in headlights. "Give me a call if you ever get lost, okay?" Carmen looked up at him with a twinkle in her eyes.

All at once Roderich was too overwhelmed to speak again. He simply nodded, feeling himself physically freeze over again, and a chill ran up his spine when her giggle parted her lips into a toothy smile.

Amelia looped her arm under Carmen's, trying to drag her away to other parts of the festival. "Come on, Carmen!" The American directed her like a school teacher, "Let the man get back to work!"

Carmen had yet to take her hypnotic eyes off of the awkward pianist, but noticing her friend dragging her away she uttered her parting words. "Buenas noches, Roderich. Hasta que nos encontremos de nuevo."

Roderich was still frozen in place as he saw Carmen's dark hair fly behind her as she and Amelia walked away. He only wished his Spanish were quicker, or that any of his linguistic skills were sharp enough in that very moment to keep it from ending too soon. After a moment of watching her go, he called out after her in a way he would reprimand himself for later before he went to bed.

"...Ditto!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Special thanks to @SpamanoEsAmor for providing more information on Spanish culture!  
> The chapter is edited slightly to reflect these notes.


	2. Rumba Beats and Feets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of May, 1991, Seville, Spain.  
> One week later, a Tuesday evening.
> 
> Carmen's not really used to rejection (or ... whatever this is), and Amelia does her best to be a supportive friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm sorry this chapter doesn't really pass the Bechdel test, but enjoy these two besties being shits together.

Carmen and Amelia frequented the conservatory for additional performance practice ever since Amelia had arrived in September. With Amelia's guitar skills and her boisterous personality, she and Carmen made an unstoppable duo. Usually the two would practice a few traditional dances - partially for Amelia to get used to the new style and partially for Carmen to practice her Flamenco dancing to anything other than cassettes while she was on campus - it made the improvization a lot fresher.

Amelia usually left her things by the boombox, even if it wasn't the most convenient place for her to do so; however, she could always call on Carmen to hand her whatever she needed - it was seemingly her favorite part of the floor to stretch.

"Yo, can you hand over the strings, please?" Amelia asked, having unwound the last old string on her accoustic, "They're in the front pocket of my backpack." 

Carmen was performing her stretches absentmindedly, folded over on her legs with her head resting on her knees. She perked her head up slightly at being addressed. "Oh, sure, sure."

She unraveled her way out of the stretch and meandered over to the boombox, against which Amelia's bag was laying. Carmen lazily unzipped the front pocket and snatched the pack up, running her fingers over the strings and feeling their rivets.

She bent down to Amelia, who was sitting on a black box in the dance studio loosening the old strings on her acoustic guitar. "Here you go," Carmen practically sighed.

"Thanks," Amelia gleamed up at her pleasantly for a second before going back to her strings. "I was thinking once I'm done tuning up here we could go over some of the rumba beats again. I feel kind of shaky on some of those - I was hoping you could give me some pointers. I was also thinking we could play around with tempo, if that's alright with you. How's that sound?" 

Upon not hearing a response, Amelia looked up and addressed her friend again. "¿Hola?" Amelia purposefully pronounced it in her most painful valley girl accent, hoping to get a laugh or even a wince out of her friend, but all she got was a forlorn sigh and slight frown from her deflated friend.

"Carmen?" Amelia called out to her again. Thinking maybe she'd reach the dancer through the floor, she stomped down on the ball of her foot in her boots, which got Carmen to hum and peer up at Amelia from the ground. 

"Hey," the American called over to her friend, who was back to going through the motions in her stretches again, "Are you feeling okay? You seem kind of ... distracted." 

Carmen sighed and lifted herself up to sit with her feet flopped out in front of her. "I guess I am," she pouted. She lightly grazed her fingernail on her tights and wouldn't look up at Amelia, who had just started to restring her instrument, "I'm sorry, amiga. I can't stop thinking about that Roderich guy. I haven't heard back from him yet."

"Who?" Amelia paused for a minute, trying to hide the fact that she didn't remember who Carmen was talking about. "Wait - do you mean the pianist from the festival the other night?"

Carmen bit her lip looking at the ground and nodded.

Amelia half-shrugged as she tried to understand why thinking about him was so difficult to not do. A small scoff escaped Amelia as she weaved the third string through its socket, "I mean, yeah, sure, he was really good, but I don't know if he was anything to write home about."

"I wouldn't mind seeing him again." Carmen muttered, probably a thought that wasn't meant to be voiced but she wouldn't back down from it. "I haven't seen him around the conservatory."

"I mean, I think I saw him wandering around campus yester-" before Amelia was even able to finish that thought, a new one entered her mind, and she looked at Carmen with wide, bright blue eyes and an open smile. "Wait a minute - you wrote down your actual phone number on his map. You were actually interested in him!" 

Carmen looked to the floor and nodded sheepishly. "...So what if I was?"

" _Am_." Amelia eagerly corrected her. The grin on her face was starting to get on Carmen's nerves.

"Okay," Carmen rebutted, sounding a little more defensive than usual and looking at her friend somewhat intensely.

Realizing how Amelia might have been hurt, Carmen groaned and rolled her eyes to get her to move out of staring down the guitarist. Still looking a little annoyed but too stubborn to fully relent, she shrugged and leaned back into her stretch, raising her chin up to face Amelia as she continued, "So what if I  _am,_ then?"

Amelia tried hard not to snicker at her friend, but she found it hilarious that out of all of the guys Carmen could have, she wanted the stick in the mud who looked like F. Murray Abraham.

She gave Carmen a puzzled glance as she pinched the tuning peg to gingerly tighten the fourth string. "Honey, you know you have more options."

"I know that," Carmen argued back simply. The pout was back on her lips as she looked down to her feet again, trying to hide the blush forming on her cheeks at the thought of recalling his own toothy smile. "It's just that I think he's... kind of cute."

Amelia absolutely noticed Carmen blushing over this guy and glanced down for a second to acknowledge what Carmen had said. Amelia sharply breathed in taking in the thought of her friend legitimately wanting to fuck some F. Murray Abraham-looking dude.

"I don't know - the guy kind of looks like a foot to me, but to each their own, I guess." Amelia answered, returning most of her attention back to her guitar. "I won't judge you too hard for your foot fetish - you live your life."

Carmen grimaced back at her friend, "You're very funny."

"But seriously," Amelia started to sound a little peeved, "You give him your number and tell him where to meet you, and he has the  _nerve_ to not call or see you? What a dick!"

"Well, maybe he doesn't have a phone" Carmen shrugged, openly showing her exasperation at the whole thing, "I didn't think about that." 

Amelia stopped tuning the guitar for a second and leaned her forearm against its side to look down at her misguided friend. "Like, wouldn't he at least have had the decency to say he didn't?" 

Carmen peered up at Amelia with a small mischievous grin, but with worry in her eyes. "If I didn't leave him so speechless, then maybe." 

Already Carmen was taking this much too hard, and Amelia wasn't even sure if this guy was even worth it. However, he did look lost the last time she saw him, and for some reason it seemed like he was trying to avoid her. Suspicious? Maybe.

Still, regardless of whether or not the guy was worth her friend's time, Amelia hated to see someone like Carmen upset. Amelia could argue that this pianist wasn't worth it, but that wouldn't do Carmen any immediate good if Amelia kept at it and Carmen still didn't believe it.

Amelia sighed and adjusted her guitar on her knee to start tuning it. "I mean, it's still early in the week. Maybe there's still time for him to pop in."

"I hope so," Carmen rested her head in her hands wistfully. "Do you think he was interested in me?" 

Amelia eyed her friend incredulously - sometimes it was hard to tell if Carmen was being serious in her obvious questions or if she just needed affirmation on occasion.

"I think he was  _intimidated_ by you. You do tend to come on strong. But I don't think he  _wasn't_ interested, if that helps." Amelia continued on as she went back to fixing up the final string in her guitar. "He was definitely trying not to look at you too much. Key word being _trying_."

"I mean, at least he tried. I'll give him that," Carmen observed, doing her best to commit to stretching again in the most unladylike fashion while she thought on the pianist's gentlemanly behavior. "I can't remember the last time I haven't been stared at, really."

Suddenly it was Amelia's turn to be wistful. "Honey, I wish I was in your shoes on that one sometimes." 

In response, Carmen simply shook her head in the hopes it might change her friend's mind. "Be careful what you wish for, amiga. It's really not all it's cracked up to be." Objectification was part of the burden she bore not only as a woman but as a dancer. Thankfully she trusted Amelia enough that she didn't have to monitor herself during stretches. Amelia might have been bisexual, but she was still one of the most respectful people Carmen had ever met. 

"Look," Amelia argued, "if it would get more women to come my way or take a second glance, I wouldn't complain. I'd take advantage of that - let me tell you!"

Amelia finally got her friend to laugh, albeit bitter laughter at her own lot in life. "Well, then aren't you lucky to have me as your wingwoman?" Carmen teased, smiling less bitterly.

Amelia had to admit - Carmen playing her up in front of the femmes certainly helped her out on more than one occassion. "Well, until they start mistaking you for my girlfriend, that is." 

"Still," the dancer continued, "you do realise the catch to the whole staring thing is the _men_ , right?"

"And you realise I wouldn't mind that much either, so long as they don't look or smell like feet." The guitarist argued, tapping her temple and sneering at her friend all over again.

Carmen rolled her eyes again as she sunk back down into her stretch, "Uh huh." 

Amelia was strumming her guitar and making final adjustments, while Carmen was now fully committed to finishing her stretches. Once Carmen was off of the floor and quickly rolling her neck and shoulders for extra measure, Amelia called over to her. "Yo, you want me to kick his ass for you, if he doesn't come around?" 

Carmen faced Amelia fully and puffed out her chest with pride. While the guitarist was fully capable in her own right, Carmen would always defend her own honor, nomatter what the circumstance.

"I can do that perfectly fine by myself, thank you," she announced, but then deflated slightly, remembering how much she wanted to see his face again, "I just really hope that I don't have to."


	3. The Emergence of a Novice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of May, 1991, Seville, Spain.  
> The following Thursday evening.
> 
> Roderich finally finds the dance studio while running away from his academic worries, and Carmen gives him a what-for.

At this point, Roderich didn't care about getting lost on campus - he just needed to walk and think. He was sure that his course load for the summer would be well enough established where he wouldn't even have to think about it, but unfortunately, he underestimated his own language-speaking skills and was unqualified to take that special topic history course on human rights during Franco's dictatorship. He needed to think of a replacement quickly, or he would risk being sent back home and have his summer abroad count for nothing.

While he briskly walked to escape his own problems, Roderich came across a building he hadn't seen before, meaning he must have finally made his way all across campus. He walked through outdoor arches and made his way inside.

Practice rooms. Practice rooms everywhere. _Gott sei dank._ He forged his way further into the building, hoping there might be an open room with a piano somewhere nearby.

The further he walked into the building, the more he heard the clicking of castanets. Intrigued, he followed the noise until he heard a melody accompanying it, or at least he thought it was a melody. A lot of it just sounded like chords, with a tempo he hadn't heard much of before. Eventually he heard the movement of feet accompanying it, and he fully realized he had found the conservatory building at last - a welcome discovery, no doubt.

Suddenly, his memory went back to the gorgeous, giggly Spanish girl he met at the festival the week before. He hoped she still remembered him. He hoped that if she did that she wasn't too mad at him, although he would understand why she would be. While these thoughts were running through his head as much as he was almost running through the building, he turned a corner and found the room the music was coming from.

Attempting to be discrete, Roderich passed by the room to get a peek at why the music was playing - he suspected it was a dance class. He only thought to turn around when he registered the rounded face and dark auburn hair twirling in the mirror. He blushed. He wasn't dreaming. It was Carmen. She was real.

He leaned onto the doorframe and became her audience this time around. Roderich could barely imagine the amount of practice she had to have put in to move so effortlessly. Her control and ease were that of a master, and her understanding of the music was just as incredible. The command she had over the floor and his attention could not have been compared. Each movement was treated with great care, from the mesmerizingly slow movements of her arms to the rapid movement of her feet that his eyes could barely follow.

Once the song had concluded, Carmen held her pose with the only sign of exhaustion being the rise and fall of her chest, which she was calming with each passing second - holding for reflection for an invisible audience. Her dedication was astounding. Once she felt the song had concluded, Carmen released herself and moved towards her boombox and water.

"Wow." Roderich whispered, forgetting that he was spying.

Unfortunately for him in that moment, the acoustics in this studio were very good, and she turned rapidly on her heels to face the stranger in the doorway defensively, retaining the command and confidence she held during the dance.

Roderich backed away instinctively at the quick movement, and Carmen took a second to register who it was. She stared at him in a way that Roderich wasn't sure was out of genuine anger or was an after effect of the dance he thought she had just finished. Carmen relaxed her stance slowly as she looked back at the man in the doorway, holding back on the glare she had him trapped in.

Roderich cleared his throat and attempted to be charming, but based on the nervous laugh that escaped him he felt he was having little success in doing that. "Excuse me, Señora - don't I know you from somewhere?"

Carmen looked back at him with some suspicion in her eyes, but his concern did not last long once he saw a coy smile appear on her face underneath that glare. So he was nervous? _Good_ , she thought, _he has every right to be_.

She bit down hard on her lip to not laugh at his pronunciation - she didn't want to give him the added credit. "Oh, yes!" she toyed with him, strutting towards him as she opened her water bottle, "Señor Piano, right?"

Roderich rested one of his forearms overhead on the door - an attempt to look cool that was dead on arrival, especially with the apparent sweat stains on his dress shirt. "I'll also accept Maestro."

Carmen tilted her head and hummed at him before taking a sip of water. She twirled back to her boombox to select another cassette to play, all the while peering over her shoulder at someone she wasn't sure deserved her attention. "I'm glad to see you finally found me. It only took you a week. And you didn't even have to call me."

Her sass was biting, but there was a lightness to it that eased Roderich's guilt. "Should I be impressed?" she asked, batting her eyelashes and pouting at him.

Rod exhaled deeply out of his nose and let his own exasperation flare up as much, even if he felt like his feelings were contained. His guilt kept his voice quieter than he would have liked: "Look, I'm sorry. It's just that your campus is much larger than I thought. And I would think that if I were in your shoes it would be somewhat suspicious to receive a call from someone on a payphone."

Carmen's side of the conversation was still cooling down from the intensity of the dance before and was easing its way into casual territory, masking any hurt she felt with actual concern. She turned to her side and observed the man possibly in distress. "Are you not taking any classes in the conservatory?" she inquired. "I thought you were."

"No," Roderich answered her with a small shake of his head and a hand run absentmindedly through his hair, "This summer is about electives. All of my courses are being taught on the other side of campus. Or at least they were," he explained, now scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "I have to figure out another elective to replace one I had."

"Oh?" Carmen's ears perked up, "What was the matter with it?" Her concern was now at the forefront of any other feelings.

While his head was hanging down, he glanced back up at Carmen and saw the kindness in her eyes returning. "Oh, nothing's the matter with it - it's just there's something the matter with me. My Spanish is not at a high enough proficiency to take it. I thought the language course would be enough to help me - I suppose it wasn't."

Registering his disappointment, Carmen moved closer and attempted to be friendlier. Maybe he didn't deserve her immediate forgiveness for not contacting her sooner, but he could at least get some empathy on being underprepared as a student. It's not like she had ever made similar mistakes before... "Well, you made it to Sevilla," she attempted to reassure him, "you'll catch up the longer you stay here."

Roderich's other hand found its way through his coffee-colored hair, giving it a good grip - a small punishment for his own stupidity on not practicing more at home or checking up on the language requirements before committing to this program. He tried not to let his temper get the best of him, especially not in front of Carmen, who certainly didn't deserve to see it.

"The thing is I might not have all that long." he groaned and he started to pace, "If I want to stay here, I need to have at least two courses, and I don't know what else I could take to replace it. If there's too great of a language requirement for anything that's left, then I'm finished."

Carmen was now pacing with him, bringing one of her hands up to her chin. She jolted her head up, still in thought, "You said they had to be electives, right?"

"Yes," he answered plainly, with another wave of his hand that he hoped might help him release some of his frustration, "I could take anything, so long as it doesn't fall into my major."

"What's your major?" She inquired of him, legitimately interested.

Roderich stopped in his tracks and looked back at her, pausing at first to process how she could ask such a seemingly dumb question but he did recall that he never told her and tempered himself before answering with a shrug, "Musical performance." He let out a small laugh, hoping it might soften any blow the first comment might have made. "What else would it be?"

Carmen shrugged and filed her nails, not giving him full eye contact when she sassed him back: "You tell me, Mr. One Trick Pony."

Roderich bit down on his lip and looked to the floor - this woman really could dish it right back, if he ever went too far. Before he shot back with anything he might regret, he forced himself to focus back on his current dillemma and the woman who was kind enough to help him sort it out.

While he was moving about, Carmen noticed the syncopation in his steps and thought back to the festival and to seeing him sway over the piano, like poetry in movement. An idea sprang into her mind she had to share: "Do they make you dance in your program?"

While Roderich didn't turn around immediately at the mention of dancing, Carmen could really see how blue his eyes were through the mirrors on the walls as he widened them in a panicked stare toward the floor. Although he could mask his tone well, Carmen only needed that one image of Roderich looking like a scared kitten to get the idea.

"Dance?" he nearly squeaked like a prepubescent child.

"Yeah," Carmen affirmed with a little enthusiasm, "if you're not required to take one back home, you could always take a dance course this summer as an elective. The language would be simple enough to catch up on, and-"

Roderich was pacing a little faster and staring at the ground again, this time shaking his head vigorously. The fear he was trying to hide was too apparent in his body language for Carmen to ignore. "Oh, I don't know if I could do that."

"Why not?" she implored him, "Do you have medical concerns or anything like that right now? Anything documented?"

He hessitated and stopped pacing for a second to see if he had any justifiable excuse or health concern that he could easily prove to her within the past year. It pained him to relent, enough to make him whine slightly in his answer: "Well... no, not really."

Carmen walked in front of him to stop him from pacing and to catch his gaze, so he wouldn't keep evading her. "Then what's your problem?" she demanded.

Roderich threw his head back and took a deep breath, unsure if he was doing both to calm his anxiety or his temper from being badgered so relentlessly. While it did unhitch his shoulders, the motion could not fully silence his irritability, as it peeked out when he responded to Carmen defensively, "If you really must know, I can't dance! I have no sense of coordination, or timing, or rhythm, or style - I practically trip over my own feet on a daily basis!" His irritable pity party had sauntered away from Carmen and seated itself on the black box in the corner of the room. "I'm hopeless", he stated with his head in his hands, as if it were shamefully indisputable, "Alright?"

Carmen paused for a moment, feeling some excess sting radiating from the agitated little man sulking in the corner who might have forgotten she was even there. She wondered what might have happened to him to make him ashamed to move, especially when dancing was the most liberating and carefree thing she could think to do. If she pitied him for anything, it was for imprisoning himself in his own body - not for any lack of skill he had.

Carmen clapped her hands, as if she had come to a decision, getting him to perk his head up: "¡Bueno! You're perfect for a beginner's course. Everybody starts somewhere, you know." She gestured to her feet as she continued: "When I was three years old, with no training, do you think I could do any of this?"

Roderich rolled himself back up reluctantly and nearly whined the answer: "I wouldn't know. I'm turning 20 this fall and I don't think I have a prayer of ever coming close to that."

Carmen scoffed at dealing with the stubbornness of a literal child. "Sure, you make it sound impossible when you make that comparison. Look, I've trained for years to be better than most people who do this - you can't compare us, like I can't compare my piano playing skills to yours. I would murder my self confidence that way."

She walked over to Roderich, standing over him, and she tried to lift his chin to see the gentle reassurance in her face, "So don't do that, and just take the dance class. All you have to do is pass it, and most of that is just showing up. Simple as that."

Roderich tried to fake a smile, but the worry consuming his eyes overtook him all over again as he gave into panic: "But what if I'm not any good? What if I'm the absolute worst in the class? What if I can't pick up any of the steps? What if I fail? What if-"

"What if, what if, what if?" Carmen interjected, doing her best impression of him in her most nasily voice, causing her to scrunch up her nose again. "That's what you sound like," she sassed him back with a smile, which he returned at how cringeworthy her Austrian accent was.

Finally, she was able to get a genuine smile out of him, regardless of how terrible that impression might have been! "If you didn't get it yet, know that if you take the dance course you're not going to fail, because I am going to help you, because I don't believe you're hopeless. Are you free from 18:00-21:00 most days?"

"All of my classes are morning classes, so yes. Unless my new elective is during that time slot."

"Trust me, it won't be - I promise. I monitor this room for dance labs at that time, and most people don't come in until the very end to get in the extra practice, so it would just be you and me, if you're concerned about other people seeing you. You're going to meet me here, and I'm gonna teach you how to dance. And you're gonna pass this class. But only after you actually register for it, okay?"

Roderich looked up at her and searched her expression for any sense of judgement or condescention to convince him to back away.

He couldn't find any.

He relented: "Okay."

"Alright, go get to your advisor! I'm sure you know where to find him by now, unless you need me to walk with you." She ordered, gesturing towards the door.

Roderich stood up again and made his way towards the door but stopped in the frame once she brought up the suggestion of accompanying him.

"Well, actually," he began, "I wouldn't mind company on the walk over. Just so I know I won't miss him."

Seeing Roderich slightly stooped over in the doorway and looking over at her imploringly with those blue eyes and embarrasing pit stains was all the charm it took for him to convince her to take a walk with him.

"I think I can help you with that," Carmen boasted with a smile.

"Thank you, Carmen," he said shyly, with the same sweetness she was happy to get a glimpse of when they first spoke.

"Don't mention it." She nudged him out of the doorway endearingly as she led him out of the room.

"By the way," she went on, "if you're going to be taking a dance class or working with me in the lab, you're gotta have to stop coming in these fancy dress shirts. I promise you, the pit stains might never come out. You'll ruin them. Maybe you could actually try dressing like a college student while you're here."


	4. La Maestra y su Sabelotodo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early June, 1991, Seville, Spain.  
> Tuesday evening.
> 
> Roderich and Carmen have their first dancing session together.

Technically being tested for dance proficiency wasn't really defined as a form of public humiliation, but if Roderich didn't excel in dance then he certainly excelled in jumping to those kinds of conclusions. After finishing with his first ever class that morning, he could instantly assume he was the least experienced person in the room and was forced to openly think about how awkwardly he moved compared to everyone else - nothing that was really healthy for his self esteem. Part of him regretted still going to the conservatory that evening to start practicing with Carmen, but then again, he was in no frame of mind to expect himself to improve on his own.

Upon hearing the music bursting from the same practice room from earlier in the week, Roderich could be sure that Carmen was already there, waiting to begin their session. He walked through the doorway and saw her organizing her things while dancing in place. She wasn't doing anything spectacular, really, but her movement was still mesmerizing, even if it was as simple a motion as swaying her hips. She was clearly enjoying herself, and he found that joy somewhat infectious. Seeing her dance like a dork somehow made him feel like actually wanting to try. 

"Bienvenido." She said cheerily as she turned around to face him and apply those cheek kisses, keeping up her little dance. "How are you? How did your first class go?"

Despite the cheer, Roderich visibly sank at the mention of his new personal Hell. "Do you want the short answer or the long?" 

Carmen only paused in her speech to answer him, but was still in motion everywhere else. "Ah, you can tell me while you stretch," she gestured at him, still bouncing around on her feet like before. "Despite what it looks like, I promise you I'm listening," she said, flashing a knowing smile.

Roderich droned slightly - part of the effect of bending down to touch his toes and peering up. Strands of his hair that were usually slicked back were now dangling in his face, but adjusting his glasses so they remained on the bridge of his nose were his priority. "Well, the short of it is that you have your work cut out for you, just as I thought you might."

"Then lucky for you, I'm up for the challenge! What did Señor Ramirez have you do?"

Rod attempted to sound casual about the class as if it weren't the most agonizing hour he'd experienced in a while as he continued on with his stretches, standing back up.

"Oh, he had me try a couple of things," he said as he tried to weave his fingers through his stray strands of hair between movements, "the fandango, the sevillianas, the flamenco. He also asked about ballroom steps and if I picked up anything from home. None of it went particularly well, I'm afraid."

By this point, Carmen was beside Roderich, gently guiding him easier into some of these dance stretches. Rod tried to be polite about wincing at the contact and correction.

Carmen still noticed the glimmers of shame in his eyes and she tried to think of a way to aleviate that. "Did you move at all?" she asked him almost like a suggestion.

While he attempted to be discrete about the wincing before to spare her feelings he openly rolled his eyes and groaned, sinking deeper in his stretch, while Carmen attempted to correct his posture on the way down. "Ugh. Regretably." A tiny, bitter laugh left him, as if to put a period on his display.

It was clear he wanted to shut the door on that conversation. Tough luck for him - Carmen was going to have that conversation be one that was worth having.

"Did you hurt anybody?" His instructor asked, a small hint of teasing in her voice. 

Slightly insulted, her student responded, "Well, no, I'm not  _that_ awful."

In response to this, Carmen smiled in that knowing fashion again before sassing her pupil: "You said it - not me."

Roderich had just processed that he finally defended how he danced, for once.

"Look," she continued, standing up straight again and moving towards the mirrors, "all I'm worried about for you on your first day of class is if you moved or not. Most instructors would prefer that you move horribly compared to not moving at all."

Roderich looked up at her again, with laughter that Carmen was unsure was meant to make light of his situation or to accentuate the blow to his self esteem. "Then I suppose I did not disappoint, because it certainly wasn't much of anything worth seeing, unless you enjoy watching other people's torment."

"Then let the torture begin!" Carmen looked down at him mischieviously.

"Come over here. I want to show you something." She gestured at him to walk towards her, which he somehow managed to do in unison with the rhythm.

When she heard his heel click at the ground, she looked over her shoulder at him inquisitively. "Have you heard this before?"

Roderich looked at her innocently and shrugged, "I can't say that I have. What is it?"

"Gipsy Kings!" She gleamed back at him, "I love them! This is actually my own CD. I'll probably be bringing more of them in the future. The studio doesn't really have a lot, unless you like dancing to the same old recordings for hours. Basically you're going to know those CDs until you hear them in your sleep. I thought I'd save you the actual torture, if you're anything like me in that way."

Roderich glanced down to downplay the shy smile on his face - he very much would have been the person to be driven mad by having one song constantly stuck in his head. "You're too kind, Señora."

"Un uh," she turned to him to correct him, wagging a dainty finger in his face. "Maestra. When you're here with me, you're my estudiante. ¿Entiende usted?" 

Roderich looked down at his adorable instructor and thought for a second about women having Napoleon complexes. He smirked and tried not to roll his eyes at her commands. "Sí." he said, jutting out his chin slightly and letting the word ring.

Carmen tilted her head to the side, peering up to the ceiling and placing a finger behind her ear. "Sí, ¿quién?" she nearly sang the phrase to him. The musicality in her voice made it very difficult to be frustrated with her.

Rod released a sigh through his lips, making them trill, before he (barely) begrudingly answered her: "Sí, Maestra." 

Carmen laughed through her nose and squinted her eyes at his ridiculous accent. "See that? You're learning!" she ragged on him.

Roderich had resorted to biting his lip, but he still peered down at his teacher with a raised brow: "I see you're already letting the power go to your head. Should I be concerned?"

Carmen peered back up at him through slighly lidded eyelids as she gingerly adjusted his collar and pat his cheek like a tiny smack. "Trust me - you'll know when the power is going to my head."

She turned back again to face the mirrors, monitoring and adjusting her stance discretely. "The only thing that will be getting to me is the dancing. But before we do that, I want to check up on a few things."

The maestra turned to her pupil again and delicately grabbed his wrist to guide him closer to the mirror. Rod peered down for a second and noticed how her hands still remained poised, even holding his wrist.

Once Carmen was done tugging him over, she brought her dainty hand up to her chin and inspected him. "This is the only time I'm going to ask you not to move, okay?"

Rod looked back at her, slightly suspicious and wondering if that comment she made about not letting the power go to her head was valid; however, he nodded back and obeyed. 

Carmen let out a small scoff through a smile, peering incredulously at her pupil who seemed frozen where he stood. "Well, get comfortable first, if you're going to be standing still."

"I am perfectly comfortable, thank you." Rod scoffed back down at her with his head held high. 

She scrunched up her nose at him and gave him a slight shove before resting her hands on his shoulders to bring them down. "You're perfectly stubborn. That's what you are. Just relax. Relajarse."

She then backed away and looked at him as though she were judging a sculpture. After a few seconds, she moved back in, but still kept her probing gaze down at him.

"For the most part, your posture is not so bad," she admitted in a reassuring way.

"However," she added, "you should try making a couple of adjustments, though. For one thing, you stoop yourself when you stand." To emphasize her point, she overexaggerated the motion before correcting it as she continued, "There is nothing wrong with standing tall, even if you already are that way."

"Of course,  _you_  would know." Rod retorted sarcastically, peering down at her through his glasses.

Carmen raised her eyebrows as she gave him a somewhat reprimanding stare and a shy grin, matched with a small shove. "I'll let you off with a warning on that one, but don't test me."

Carmen then swiveled her way back to face the mirror and physically demonstrated her instructions. "But it really is good for you when you take up your own space. Physically you get to breathe in more air and psychologically it helps you feel a little more confident."

Rod tried to follow her instruction, but he couldn't avoid thinking about his awkward frame as he peered down at himself and then at his reflection. This was far from confidence-building for him. "It feels a little silly," he confessed.

Carmen attempted to talk him through it. "Embrace that silliness! Eventually it's not going to feel so silly anymore... Try imagining you're a puppet, and there are strings pulling you up by the top of your head and chest."

Rod stopped looking at himself in the mirror - a welcome mental break - and looked down to address one of the most ridiculous things he's ever heard. "I'm not sure how something like that could ever _not_ sound silly."

Carmen stood up on her toes as she addressed him again, with her hands on her hips in an authoritative way. "Okay, then, smarty - imagine you're about to play something on a piano that you have to stand to play." 

Rod leaned down to her to keep teasing her. "How tall is it?" 

Carmen dropped to her heels and backed away for a second, reminding herself that every person was capable of being stupid.

"Here's a new word for you - sabelotodo. You'd better hope that's the nicest thing I call you besides mi estudiante... I'm going to have to get a little close to fix you up. Is that okay?"

Roderich gave her his permission. 

Carmen walked behind him and gently laid her hands on him to adjust each part that was off in his stance - never applying any pressure, but only allowing for the suggestion of contact. For each part, Carmen circled him slowly and only spoke in a calming tone to help him ease into her direction.

"So straighten up your back a little, but relax your shoulders - really bring them down and behind you. That should bring your chest forward a little."

Carmen felt a little hesitation from Roderich about the effect of this motion, and moved to get a better view of Roderich's face from his side. He was biting his lip and trying not to look down at himself or into the mirror. Carmen guessed maybe Amelia wasn't the only person to call Roderich the equivalent of a foot.

"It's okay," Carmen soothed, "You have nothing to be shy about. Take it from me - people treat you a little more favorably when you know you have a nice chest," she said, while she puffed out her own in a way goofy enough to get Roderich to snicker.

Carmen took note of the way his stomach moved in, finding a way to continue. "Okay, hold your stomach that way again, like when you were laughing. That's what you should be doing with your midsection. Bueno. Okay, long neck, chin level to the floor - not too high. Are your knees bent? No locked knees, please. Can you turn your toes in more for me? Okay, space your feet a little wider. Keep the bend in your knees though. I have to put my hands on your hips for a quick second to explain this - is that okay?" 

"You're the boss," Roderich nodded, doing his best not to look down as she came behind him and rested her hands partially on his hip bones and partially through the belt loops in his pants.

"Your hips are going to be the most important part of your stance. You need to be sure they're nice and loose and lined up with your shoulders and stomach, like this." She moved her hands forward gently, never once gripping onto him, and Roderich followed her motion. 

Once she finished the adjustment, she unlooped her fingers and gave his shoulders a pat before resting her hands on top of them and peeking out from behind him and pointing at their reflections.

"Bueno. Now I want you to take a deep breath and look at that man across from you in the mirror. Don't worry - he's not so bad to look at."

"Are you sure about that?" He turned his head and looked down at her in a way that made her uncertain if he was joking or not. 

"Okay, sabelotodo," Carmen addressed her pupil a little more aggressively, "Close your eyes for a second, but hold that position."

Roderich obligued her demand. Carmen tried to set up a scene while she observed him.

"Think of a song you desperately want to play, like you could burst if you don't play it. Let that fill you, to the point where you're just about to put your hands on the keys. But don't move! Not yet! Just feel it all inside you, everywhere - that moment right before you absolutely have to play."

Rod's brow furrowed as he thought more on it, but Carmen could note a change as he seemed to ease into the position and appear somewhat more energized, changing the air in the room.

"I think I have it," he confided quietly but ardently. 

"Good," she smiled from ear to ear with excitement, "Now open your eyes."

Roderich peered into the mirror at a version of himself that he rarely, if ever, saw - the maestro.

Before Rod could express exactly how new this sight was to behold, Carmen interjected. "¡Uf! ¡Ahora mire usted! Just look at you! You've got it!"

"I don't understand what it is I have." Rod responded, the only movement he allowed himself at this point was to shift his eyes to his maestra, before she directed him back to looking at the mirror in the hopes that he didn't see her slight blush at his eyes on her like that. 

"The first step - finding the feeling that drives you to move! These dances you're going to learn are all very passionate - to feel like you can do them at all requires a passion - a motivation. You can learn to focus. You can learn to concentrate. You can learn to do the steps correctly. All of these things are important, but they will all mean nothing if you don't have something that needs to be expressed. When you have that, no one will be able to stop watching you. And you have that in you, because this is how you are when you play the piano."

"But that's because I've been playing music since before I could even speak. It's the one instance I can feel like I actually know what I'm doing. Like I have my life under control."

"And you know what? You've been alive longer than you've been able to play music. You've had that living thing figured out long before you could play, and it doesn't seem you've let up on that just yet. You do it all the time. Why not just give into that?"

Had Roderich been feeling as sensual as he apparently looked, he might have done something that would have constituted as some people's idea of living; however, hearing her endearing words and looking back on the frequent illness and hardships of his youth were enough to touch him in another way.

His brow unfurrowed and he felt his glasses fog slightly with the mist in his eyes, "I hadn't thought about it that way."

Carmen noticed his tears through the mirror and leaned into him to give him a quick hug. "It feels good, doesn't it? That's how I want you to feel when you move - like you're celebrating yourself and your life, like your story is important, like nothing can hold you back from who you are. I want you to move like it's not for anyone but yourself - everyone else is just lucky enough to be along for the ride." 

"Incredible," he exhaled in awe, slowly accepting the side effects of his own small catharsis and in the beauty of her words. "Is that how you feel when you move?"

Carmen's eyes shimmered at the very thought of it. "That's how I try to feel when I live. It definitely makes moving easier. But it is part of why I dance. The rest of it is more culturally related. I'm sure you have an idea of what that's like."

"I suppose I do," Rod nodded, "although it is a different feeling when everything is set in place like a performance. I can't tell you how different I feel when I'm dressed for a recital and under stage lights."

Carmen put her hands in the back pockets of her pants and pouted in thought. "Sí, sí. It is pretty weird to dance without a bata de cola." 

After a brief moment of silence, Rod thought to speak up. "Okay, I'm not going to dare attempting to repeat that back because I know I'll butcher it, but what is that exactly?"

After laughing at his self deprecation, Carmen happily explained. "Oh! It's the skirt! The costume is a large part of Flamenco. At least, if you're wearing a dress, it is. It's just a little annoying to have to deal with a 5 kg skirt with a train any more than you have to, even if it  _is_ beautiful. I just put it on for evening performances during the summer."

"Well, I would certainly love to see you dance in one sometime." Usually when she mentioned her costumes in front of other men they would say the same sort of thing in a suggestive manner, but that wasn't how Roderich sounded. With the glow in his eyes and innocence in his presence, it seemed to Carmen like he was coming from a place of genuine respect. 

An innocent smile of her own graced her lips before she extended the invite: "I do have a few performances this weekend. I can probably save you a ticket. Maybe it'd be good for you to see what it looks like on stage."


	5. Breaking Legs and Breaking Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early June, 1991, Seville, Spain.  
> Saturday Night.
> 
> Roderich attends one of Carmen's professional performances and may have overdone social convention again, but it's fine - it lands him a free meal.

She wasn't lying when she said Flamenco dancing was a different experience out of costume. Carmen's flamenco dress itself was a wonder to behold - with all of its ruffles, colors, intricate patterns, and embroidery. Seeing it swish around every which way at her command was like watching her show off another layer of skin, as if the dress truly was part of her.

With her hair pulled up into a bun, her face caked in makeup, and that magnificent flowing dress, Carmen ascended further into the dance into something that seemed to go beyond her, although Rod was only left to wonder what that might be. All of her back and forth movement with her dance partners seemed ethereal, and yet Roderich could still recognize Carmen from her unmistakeable stage presence. Their movements had so many different tonalities playing off of each other - from calming to explosive, tender to fierce, desiring to lovelorn. Always switching and redefining each other through each their movement. 

Attempting to learn from the experience as well, Rod tried to keep track of the changing meter and where the accents fell into place, but intense thought and focus on such things were difficult to maintain upon getting swept up in the performance and also in the moment.

Rod's venue expectations were certainly mismatched. He had expected lights descending on the dancers from an elevated stage, with the audience showing up in seated rows. The last thing he expected was something as communal as a bar with hit-or-miss lighting.

It wasn't that the communal aspects were unwelcome: if nothing else, it enhanced the experience, much like a dialogue was taking place with the entire room.

The problem was that Roderich had clearly overprepared, dressing semiformally and bringing flowers - ones that he thought might match the red dress he was expecting to see. Thankfully, there was still red patterning among the other colors in her ensemble, so he wasn't completely off the mark.

Once Carmen and her partner had concluded, Carmen dragged the admittedly dashing man she was dancing with across the bar over to where Roderich was sitting. Upon getting a better glimpse of her partner, Roderich attempted not to make too much eye contact. Unfortunately, her partner did not want to obligue him - his intense eyes would not leave Roderich. While Roderich felt the man's eyes studying him, Carmen drummed her nails on the counter to get him to look up.

"I'm glad to see you made it!" she spoke through a very spirited smile. Roderich could barely understand how this woman's face could beam so brightly after all of that movement in a closed space. Even getting up to stand to greet the pair in a place like this at night was enough to make him a little dizzy.

"I'm glad I came!" Rod exclaimed, doing his best not to distract the other patrons enjoying the other dancers, "I barely have the words to describe how wonderful the performance was. You both move so well together!"

"¡Gracias!" Carmen beamed again, allowing herself to boast a little after a job well done. "What did I tell you about how different a performance feels?"

"Carmen," her partner spoke in a low, dulcet tone Roderich remembered, "¿Quién es este hombre?" Thankfully her partner was merciful in keeping his tone conversational.

Carmen barely noticed the other conversation going on between the two of them. "Oh! Forgive me!" she nearly yelped, pulling her partner to her side and presenting him like a proud sister, "Roderich, this is Bartolomé. Bartolomé, this is the friend I was telling you about. Mi estudiante. El sabelotodo."

"Oh, sí. Mucho gusto, mi amigo!" Bartolomé pulled Roderich into a hug and gave him air kisses on his cheeks, still remaining platonic.

"I hope you've been enjoying your time in Sevilla! Please forgive me for staring. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable - it's just that you look familiar to me. Have we met before, maybe?" Bartolomé asked, cocking his head to the side and squinting his eyes in a way that may or may not have been cheekier than how he'd previously acted in front of him that evening.

There was no way Rod could say his appearance was mistakable, whether that be a positive or negative remark on his looks. Feeling a little trapped, Rod attempted to cap a nervous laugh forming in his chest. "Oh, I don't believe we have. Maybe we've passed each other by on the street?"

"Maybe." The dancer mused. "Maybe in Sevilla, or maybe in ... other places, perhaps?"

"¡Bartolomé, charlatán! I'm not stupid!" Carmen gave her partner a teasing shove to the side as she chided him, "Just because you can pick up on other people's accents doesn't make you Sr. Popular everywhere you go!" After giving her dance partner a dramatic eyeroll befitting of him, Carmen turned her attention back to Rod, attempting to plead with him.

"Don't worry about it, Roddy. He probably doesn't know you, anyway." She continued on, clearly back to teasing her fellow dancer, "He likes to pretend he makes friends in other countries when he's away traveling in July and August."

"Why do you have to assume that I don't? I meet more people than you do, staying here all of the time." Bartolomé chided Carmen right back, before turning his attention back to Rod, who was doing his best to appear calm and casual while screaming internally.

"Most people leave Sevilla this time of year because it's too hot. I like to move around from place to place when this happens. I've been to France, Northern Italy, Switzerland - I've even been as far out as Austria."

"Is that right?" Rod tried not to squeak while everything else about him went back to his usually cold consistency. "Maybe we did bump into each other," he attempted to state it in a matter-of-fact way, hoping it would close out the conversation. He normally didn't make it a point to be intentionally rude, but he found this case to be a decent exception.

"Maybe we did." Bartolomé smiled knowingly at Rod, who was trying very hard to shrink under the dancer's gaze. The Austrian thanked whatever force allowed Carmen to be completely oblivious to what was going on.

Registering the Austrian's cold shoulder, the dancer quietly understood the message. "Well, Roderich, feel free to come back to any more performances while I'm still here. I'd be happy to have you again."

Rod knew for a fact that the Spaniard said that on purpose, which wasn't fair. By this point, however, the Austrian had garnered enough self control to not allow himself to be phased and peered at the man over his glasses with a smile short of being tight-lipped.

"Thank you for your offer," Rod responded in a voice even he was surprized had turned out to sound as casual as it did, "I will consider it."

Bartolomé clearly did not like or feel used to being chilled over, but he understood the message and left the two be, trying not to look or feel insulted, as the answer technically wasn't a no.

Either through exhaustion or perhaps sensory overload, Carmen miraculously did not pick up on the conversation happening under the table. "Again, don't worry about what Bartolomé said. Even if he did end up in your hometown, I'm sure you never would have seen him on the street. He goes clubbing all the time when he's away."

"Not to change the subject too quickly," Rod calmly interjected, exiting his cold cacoon again as he presented the bouquet, "but I don't want these to wilt."

At the sight of the petals, Carmen suddenly woke back up again.

"Claveles!" she gushed, bringing her hands to her face in surprize, "You got me carnations?"

"Of course!" Rod stated, this time being genuinely casual, "If I planned to see a friend perform professionally for the first time, then why would I not get them flowers? It's basic ettiquette."

Carmen looked partially horrified but also thrilled at such a seemingly small gesture, and Rod wondered in the back of his mind if he had overdone this as well. "Oh, Roddy!" she continued, her excitement getting the best of her speech, "You really shouldn't have! You should be spending your pesetas on things you need - on food and-and hygeine products and fun things to do."

Rod started to turn the bouquet away from her and examine the petals, between being completely sheepish or smug, "Well, if you really are worried about me missing a meal, I  _could_  try returning them."

"No, don't do  _that_!" She exclaimed as she reached to retrieve her flowers, snatching them right up out of his hands and causing him to flinch a little, "Are you loco?"

Rod hummed to himself in laughter at her little outburst. "I thought you might like them. You can consider the flowers part of my budget on fun things to do. I did buy them for your performance, which I did enjoy, so it certainly wasn't a waste of money," Rod reasoned.

Carmen buried her face into the bouquet and fluttered her eyes at their sweet scent. Despite all of the offers in her life from men to get her a drink after a performance, not one had thought to return to see her with flowers - platonic or otherwise. Carmen took gratitude to an entirely new level. 

"Gracias, Roderich. They really are beautiful," the lady stated sweetly with her face emerging from the flowers. She was having trouble picking a visual focus - the red carnations in her hand or the shy smile across from her.

"But why did you get me red ones?"

"To try to match your ensemble," he attempted to explain himself, growing a little more embarrassed upon being so over-the-top, "I was told most flamenco dresses are red, although I see now that  _you_ stand out in more ways than one."

"Trust me - it's not that unique," Carmen bantered back at him, "Just so you know for the future, some people get these kinds of red carnations for someone they really admire."

"Oh, I see," Rod blushed the tiniest bit out of surprize and let out a sigh of relief.  _So that was the trouble._  "Well, I don't _regret_ the mistake - you are still undoubtedly a very admirable performer."

This man really was too sweet for his own good - she felt she had to do something.

She bounced up and down a little before giving him a short squeeze. She still could barely contain her gratitude. "Gracias, Roddy. This really is way too nice for this kind of performance! Please, let me make it up to you."

An idea flashed through her mind and inspired her to let go of him and plead up at him. "Let's go out for some tapas! I don't have any more dancing to do tonight, and it's barely morning. I was going to go out for something to eat anyway. ¡Te trataré!"

To say Roderich was still anything less than surprized at all of this contact would have been an understatement, although it was becoming more welcome and less painful as he learned to relax into it. "Oh, you didn't want to get something at the bar?"

Carmen pulled him down a little to whisper into his ear and be discrete. "To be honest with you, the food in here isn't all that great, and I was hoping to go for a walk outside of all of the noise. Besides - I wanted to show you something."

* * *

After picking up some food from another bar, Carmen and Roderich walked by the riverbank, taking in all of the beautiful lights reflecting on the water from the other side. It must have been 2 in the morning at this point. All of the colors on the water reminded Roderich of the Christkindlmarkt back home, and he tried to keep himself from swooning too hard at the view. At this point Carmen had changed out of her dress and shoes and stored them carefully in the bag she was carrying on her shoulder. Most of the carnations were peaking out of her bag - she had placed one of them in her bun. In her free hand, she was nibbling on her last bits of pan con tomate.

The two almost seemed to be moving aimlessly with how slowly they sauntered that Roderich forgot they were going to a specific place, but they were among a small sea of aimless tourists.

"What did you say the name of this river was again?" Roderich nearly breathed the question out, still in awe of the body of water beside him.

After swallowing her final bites of the bread, Carmen smacked her lips together to be sure her mouth was clear before speaking. How her lipstick never smeared was a secret Roderich would never be able to figure out: "Guadalquivir," Carmen announced with dramatic flare, "Río Guadalquivir."

Roderich paused for a second, in a bit of thought, and then he opened up his mouth to speak:

"Waddle-kivere," he attempted to repeat back to her, but he felt a laugh bubble up through his nose midway through the word.

Carmen began to shush him playfully while lightly taunting him, "Estas hiriendome. Detente, porfavor." She wined up to him, shaking his arm with her free hand to beg. "It's tooooorture!"

"I'm doing my best!" he retailated defensively, feigning exasperation like a drama queen, but his defense did not sound convincing through him suppressing his own giggling. Carmen's giggle had reached the point of tittering at the poor man.

"But really, the..." Roderich paused himself upon hearing Carmen snort through her nose, anticipating his next words.

He glared down at her smirking, "this  _river_... truly is magnificent. It almost reminds me of the one at home, with the exception of the lack of mountains around it."

Carmen's smile softened a little as she observed the man beside her curiously, "You don't talk much about home."

Roderich shrugged, thinking the question seemed a little odd and soon to ask.

Then again, he did give her a fright with those red carnations she hadn't let go of yet.

"You haven't known me all that long" he retaliated, "I'm also trying not to grow homesick - is that so wrong?"

Worried she might have crossed a boundary, Carmen tried to mend the possible blow, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to push you. I'm just curious - I haven't been outside of Sevilla before, but I do see a lot of people from many different places. I like hearing about them."

"It's fine," he relented with a small simper. After taking a deep breath and absorbing the scene around him, he felt comfortable with stepping away from it for a second, "I suppose there wouldn't be any harm in talking a little bit about home."

Roderich released a small laugh through his nose and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, "It's funny - I'm so used to asking people where they're from nearly first thing, but being asked first is different." After a brief moment to collect his thoughts, he turned to Carmen, who was clearly engaged in what he had to say,

"First of all," he started, in a slightly more stern tone that usual, "I am not German. I am Austrian. There is a difference." He accentuated the concept by pointing his finger.

"I'll keep that in mind." Carmen chuckled at him and his authoritative tone.

She then went back to indulging her curiosity, looking at him wide-eyed, as if she were being regaled with an incredible story, "So what's it like, living in Austria?"

Roderich sighed pensively, looking out at the river again, "It seems like a world apart from here." 

Carmen gave him a gentle tug to bring his attention back. "How so?" she peered up at him inquisitively.

Looking down at her and then again at the ground Roderich took a quick moment to collect more thoughts on their differences before continuing, each thought taking a moment between expression to be pictured. "Well, for one thing, the hottest it gets where I live at around this time is maybe 20 degrees. And even then it rains half the time anyway. And my family and I live very high up compared to here. Sea level seems like a foreign concept. There are certainly no beaches, but there are lakes - we do swim there, although I personally don't swim much. Mountains are everywhere, along with all of the people that go with them - hikers, skiiers-."

"Snow-capped mountains?" Carmen interrupted his train, a glimmer of excitement escaping her.

Rod continued, taking a second to recover, but with a soft smile gracing his face at her genuine interest. "Well, naturally. They're very high up."

Carmen hummed to herself, trying to imagine what it would be like to see mountains everyday - to take in their size, their peaks, if she'd be able to see people on them at all. "It sounds very pretty," she mused, expressing wonder and delight.

"It is  _quite_  pretty," Rod confirmed, allowing his nonchalance to slowly melt at his memories, "It's especially pretty in December. Everything is beautifully decorated and lit up for the holidays. It's really lovely against all of the ice and snow. It practically makes them both worth enduring."

It wasn't so much Rod's words that caught her attention, but how much difficulty he had in choosing his words that explained how odd it was to be away. There was a slight longing in his eyes as he let each thought land in his mind's eye.

"I can understand why you might not want to talk much about home" she smiled at him in understanding, "I would probably miss it, too, if I lived there, with the way you talk about it."

"Well, there are some welcome reminders of home here: the lights, the river, the appreciation for music. But the differences are welcome as well - there are so many of them that it would surely drive me mad to even think to deny them." His visual focus wasn't on anything specifically but his eyes happened to land on Carmen during the last part of his statement, causing Carmen to blush down towards the ground. Noticing what he'd done, Rod sent his own gaze towards the ground, thinking maybe it was best to not talk, lest he make matters more awkward for them.

Before he could commit himself to being quiet for the rest of the walk, Carmen had shouted: "Rod! Look up! We've made it! Look up! This is what I wanted to show you!" Roderich lifted his gaze to view a bridge on the bank so beautifully lit up, accentuating its rounded shapes and arcs that his jaw dropped at the sight of it along with its reflection on the water.

Carmen weaved her way in front of him, on the side of his view, to present the sight excitedly, "¡Este es el Puente de Triana! Beautiful, right?"

Rod pulled his way out of being speechless: "It's- It's like a dream! Like a dream I never knew I wanted to have!" Rod immediately started to worry upon those words leaving his mouth, as well as their implications, but once he saw Carmen laughing again he felt emboldened to get her to continue.

"Now, if only I could pronounce its name."


	6. 2/3 a Flamenco, a Habanera, and a Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Middle of June, 1991, Seville, Spain.  
> Tuesday Evening. 
> 
> Carmen catches her pupil practicing Flamenco rhythms on piano, outs herself as an opera fan, and tricks him into waltzing.

When Carmen entered the conservatory she could hear Flamenco music playing faintly, but clearly not on a recording, although the polish of the sound could make an untrained ear question that fact. She knew there were no recordings the conservatory had of Flamenco music on piano. The closer she came to her room, the louder the music grew. She already knew it was coming from the room across the hall, and she was willing to wager on who was inside with the piano, although she was more than pleasantly surprized. 

Carmen stood by the doorway as she saw Roderich playing tenderly on a piano that he probably assumed wasn't getting enough love from enough musicians this summer, leaning in and out with each dynamic change as if he were dancing it. A gorgeous array of melodies and chords trickled out of his fingertips, flowing from an incredibly invested source. With his eyes closed, Roderich had willingly surrendered himself into his work and Carmen was completely entranced.

Doing her best to contain her joy when she felt the music speed up, she danced her way right into the room, finding the silent notes in his piece. Rod opened one eye for a second to peer over at her through the corner of it, and he continued on knowing he was no longer performing by himself.

It had become increasingly more difficult to be upset with him, because it was clear he was trying his best in their practice sessions. Sure, the footwork was still tricky for him to maintain, which was made clear when he would initiate his own breaks to mess around with the piano on the other side of the hall, but Carmen would let it slide once he got a song out of his system and came back in to try again. These impromptu breaks lessened overtime anyway, although part of Carmen missed hearing them interspersed between the CDs. However, seeing him actually attempt to take on the musical style was an entirely new level of wonderful.

Their musical conversation went on for a while, with each of them adding little bits to gain each other's attention. Roderich would add more silences if Carmen's feet were in the middle of a frenzy, and Carmen would allow Rod to play crazy scales without stepping on them too much. They were each finding a sync with each other as they went, and their respect and appreciation for each other's art form was front and center throughout.

Even as the piece slowed, their enthusiasm was still as heightened as before, even if they were beginning to tire from their exertion. Both Roderich's playing on the piano and Carmen's dancing on the floor had settled into tender places, and even after they stopped moving and playing they decided together when their conversation ended from observing each other.

For a moment they stayed locked on each other, coming out of the ecstacy of creation.

It was only when Carmen's joy as a teacher bubbled over and kept her from remaining still in that spot any longer that a new conversation had started.

"¡Eso fue deslumbrante!" She cheered giddily, moving over to Roderich by the piano, "¡Maravilloso! ¡Soy una Maestra orgullosa! ¡Bravo! Bravissimo!" Carmen was bouncing and grinning from ear to ear, which was somewhat infectious. In the summer heat, Rod was thankful that he could look at an excitable Carmen and feel even a little pep without a warm cup of coffee.

After adjusting his glasses, Rod stood from his chair and bowed to his adoring public and his fellow musician. "Thank you. Thank you." He annunciated theatrically, "You are much too kind, Maestra." 

Carmen was practically squealing: "Roddy, you have no idea how proud I am of you right now! You don't know!"

Seeing this energized, little imp keep carrying on about their duet was just as sweet as it was confusing, and he was clearly puzzled when his toothy grin reappeared. "Mein Gott, how can you still be this energetic after doing all of that? Did it really sound that great?"

Carmen's excitement had devolved into pacing and making some unintelligible sounds. It was like watching a child on Christmas morning - her bizarre joy was much too pure. "Oh, God, It  _felt_  that great!" Her bouncing had now turned into jumping. "This is so exciting!" she carried on further, "You're so much closer to understanding what this all is!" 

Rod walked over to her and rested his hands on her shoulder, concerned that she was possibly becoming delirious. He leant down to match her height and see if maybe he could calm her in that way. "How do you mean? We were just playing together and listening."

"¡Exactamente!" she spooked him with the quick gesture of her hand into a point for emphasis. "You were  _listening_! We were saying something  _together_! Don't you get it?  _This_ is Flamenco!  _This_ is what I've been trying to show you!"

Carmen was glowing with pride in her pupil, and Roderich was starting to understand that all of this excitement had come about because the feeling she kept going on about was there. The realization knocked him back a bit, and the understanding of what had just happened and a sense of accomplishment fully reached him.

A small, euphoric-looking simper tugged at his lips.  "Oh my. Then, this is good news."

While he was distracted by this realization, Carmen began bouncing and squealing all over again, this time grabbing his arms as if she were about to pull him into a hug, "It's wonderful news!" she exclaimed with a triumphant laugh.

Suddenly, she started to let her creative juices run and she paced, ignoring the wobble in her step, "Now all we have to do is to get you to feel that in your feet!" She hummed cheerily to herself.

"My goodness," he whispered under his breath in exasperation, with his concern for this woman's safety skyrocketing all over again. He addressed her again, "Do you need water? A chair? Are you sure you're alright? You don't want to sit down or anything?"

"I'm fine," she said with a winded chuckle, before she caught herself from falling over.

She laughed sheepishly upon her recovery: "Okay, maybe I'm not so fine."

Rod took long strides towards the door to grab her water bottle and he moved quickly towards his teacher, being careful not to roll his eyes at her giddiness. "Please, allow me," he extended his hands to her and proceeded to guide her to the piano bench. 

"Gracias," Carmen hummed before she took a few large sips of water. Rod examined her carefully while gracing his fingers on the keys again.

Once Carmen put the bottle down to breathe, she looked over at her pupil again, inquisitively, "How long have you been practicing these rhythms?"

Rod looked down at the keys and let his fingers dance gently over them in the scales he remembered learning for Flamenco, only for the feeling and the sound of the ivories beneath his hands. "Well, firstly, I try to practice daily. Considering I'm not on my usual course schedule I have to cut out the time for myself, so I've been doing my best to see if I can work this in. Like I said - I don't have much of an intuition for rhythms."

"Ha!" Carmen almost sounded like she was mocking him before she leaned her elbow on the side end of the piano, "You could have fooled  _me_  for a second."

"Oh, you're just saying that," he brushed her off bashfully, while absentmindedly plunking out chords and little melody lines, "These rhythms and sounds are a bit of a stretch outside of my level of music theory. Then again, the growth I'm sure will benefit me in the long run. But honestly - these rhythms really were driving me up a wall a few weeks ago."

"You must be a very fast learner, then, my- Oh," she stopped and grimaced at him coyly, "Muy divertido, sabelotodo."

Roderich was quite visibly confused by her comment, until she pointed to his left hand.

"Don't play dumb with me," she teased, giving his shoulder a tiny shove, "You're playing the Habanera, tonto! I have half a mind to make you dance it!"

He looked back to his left hand and slowly realized he was playing the bass line from the Habanera from Bizet's  _Carmen_. Not only that, but he then registered that Carmen was referring to that specific song from that specific opera. 

He raised his left hand away from the piano and closed his eyes. "Hold on a rest," he then peered back at her to express his surprize. "You enjoy opera?"

Carmen nearly swooned in her seat thinking about it. "What's not to enjoy?" she gushed, "The singing, the music, the dancing, the costumes - I love it! Oh, what I wouldn't give sometimes to be able to open up my mouth and sing like Montserrat Caballé!"

Roderich could barely believe his luck - most of the people he came across would openly degrade the artform. To hear someone else talk about it with such admiration was like a breath of fresh air. 

The teacher then straightened her posture again and smiled coyly, with her chin held high, at her pupil. "Guess which one is my favorite?"

Rod saw her smile and decided he would go for the obvious answer.

"Hmm...  _The Barber of Seville._ "

"Oh, come on!" she wailed at him, "You already know what it is! Stop toying with me!"

His eyebrow rose, both out of the hilarity of the choice and also from legitimate curiosity, "Is it actually Bizet's  _Carmen_? You're serious?" He nearly laughed it out through his grin.

Carmen cocked her head to a side and pouted, waving a finger at him before turning to face forward again. "You better not make fun of me. You still have to dance today."

Rod allowed himself a small chuckle at the absurdity and decided to try something bold before putting the final button on that conversation.

"Fine, then. We can talk about opera next Saturday night, if you're free."

Carmen turned back around immediately to face him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

"¿Qué?"

Registering her response, Rod explained himself and did his best to make it clear that he was serious, "I actually am going to see  _Carmen_  next weekend. My Spanish professor had a pair of tickets to offer to our class."

As Rod continued to speak, his confidence shrank little by little as his nerves attempted to reign him back in line. Lightly touching the keys again, he pressed on, "She and her husband unfortunately had a conflict and couldn't refund them, and so I volunteered to take them off her hands. Of course, you can imagine how I had  _so much_  competition among the other students to get them. So long as I write her a brief report about the evening in Spanish, it will have been worth it."

"And you want to take me to the opera." She asked more like a statement, placing a hand to her chest.

Still not feeling comfortable enough to face her fully, Roderich glanced over at her and kept going.

"If you're free. And only if you would want to go with me, of course." 

The urgency in Carmen's voice continued to build as she kept seeking confirmation. Each emphasized word included a small thump to her chest or her thigh.

"To the  _opera_.... In the  _evening.._. To see  _Carmen_."

"Again," Roderich stopped her, leaning back to sigh away his anxiety over this exchange, "only if you would  _like_  to join me."

Carmen was silent for a moment (which felt like an eternity to Rod), looking away deep in thought on this proposal.

Her eyes went wide for a quick moment, but her face settled into a devilish grin.

"I'll make you a deal," she started, leaning closer to Roderich.

"I'll go with you, but first you have to do a dance with me that is completely for fun that I get to choose... I want you to waltz with me."

The blood drained from his face at her proposal and he leaned forward on the piano, almost close to smacking his head into it, if he wasn't careful.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he whined, "Can't we just practice Flamenco steps? I'll even work on the sevilliana, if I have to."

"No no no," Carmen teased him while she got up to walk again, headed towards the other room. "I want you to waltz with me first. We can do the sevilliana after that, since you suggested it so nicely." 

Rod heard the clicking of her heels when she was in the hallway and reluctantly raised his head to call to her from across the way.

"Carmen, just because I know how to play several waltzes doesn't mean I know how to dance to them!"

Carmen wasn't too far from the room, as she was immediately staring at him from the doorway, looking slighly hurt on his behalf. "Are you telling me that you've never danced to anything you've played before?"

Rod sat up straight again and shrugged nonchalantly but still slightly embarrassed and saddened to say it, "Well, who am I going to dance with? The piano?" 

"I don't know," Carmen joked, "You always look like you're very close to trying it." Rod rolled his eyes and leaned back over the piano again, admitting quiet defeat at being caught for his inability to keep perfectly still. 

Carmen had returned to the room across the hallway and continued on speaking. The empathy that was in her expression transferred over into her voice, "Really though, that is such a shame. You love these pieces a lot - I can tell that you do. If anyone should be waltzing to them, it should be you."

Carmen walked back into the room waving the little CD at her pupil, hoping he might take a look at it. Rod stood up from the piano and moved toward Carmen, gesturing for the CD. "Like I said," Carmen continued, "You hear these CDs enough that they get stuck in your head. I knew we had something here for it!"

Rod read the label on the tiny tape and was slightly astonished at the choice. "Shostakovich. Interesting - I was expecting Strauss. I might have to remedy that before the summer's over."

"Do you know his music?" Carmen asked by the boombox. 

Rod scratched the back of his head, caught between observing his teacher and the little tape in his hands. "I'd say my life would be less enriched, if I didn't know of his life or his work."

"Then come on!" she exclaimed, placing her hand in the one holding the CD, "Let's go! Let's do it!"

Before Carmen could pull him to the middle of the floor, Roderich planted his feet, allowing the jolt of his dead weight catch Carmen's attention.

As she peered over her shoulder back at him to get him to move, he stood upright but tilted his head down at her to speak - the last chance for his nerves to save him.

"This is the only way to get an answer on seeing  _Carmen_?"

She nodded back at him without any hessitation, "You know it is!"

Understanding that there was no arguing with this woman, Roderich sighed and spoke softly, looking mostly towards the floor, "Oh, alright, fine, but I'll only dance to the Second Waltz with you. It's slower - I don't want you getting too dizzy. Or to risk stepping on your toes too many times."

"Rod," Carmen turned to face him fully in an attempt to console him, "I'm not expecting perfection. I'm expecting to see what I've taught you, but - Hey, look at me - you'll be fine. It's just for fun, okay?"

Trying to swallow his fear, he turned to his partner and corrected his posture through a shrug. There was no turning back from it now.

As nervous as he was about dancing with her, he wanted to see an opera with her even more.

"Alright, play it." 

Carmen popped the CD into the boombox and set it to start playing the Second Waltz. When she turned back around, she saw Rod correcting his posture on his own. Once Carmen had entered his dance space to prepare him to waltz, his form faltered a little bit; however, he picked it back up once Carmen made the proper adjustments to their form together - gracing the fingers of her right hand up to his left to clasp them together and placing his right hand on her back before placing her left on his shoulder. 

"You go forward and start with your right foot, okay?"

He responded with a nod and waited for the beginning of the waltz to cycle back before stepping forward.

For a little while, they stayed within their box, but eventually Rod tried leading them out to the right and move around the room more, all the while glancing down continually at his feet. He looked too perplexed for Carmen's liking, and she cleared her throat to bring his attention back upright, trying not to sound too annoyed as to discourage him.  

"You know this. Why are you counting it?"

"Like I said," he retorted back through a little frustration, "I don't want to risk stepping on your toes."

"Rod," she said, releasing her right hand to gently tilt his head up to her. "Turn your mind off for a second. I know you know this piece. You know that you know it. Just feel it, like the song is coming from your body. Like your body is the instrument. Think about what it's saying."

Rod closed his eyes and corrected his posture one final time, before taking a deep breath and easing into his hold again.

Carmen could feel that he was ready to move.

"Now tell me." 

Their movement from this point on was certainly not perfect, but Roderich was committed to what he was doing. He mimicked the rise and fall of the rhythm in his feet. Their turns suddenly became more eccentric to match the piece. They had even unclasped their hands to attempt some spins and twirls. Everything felt more deliberate and somehow the pair managed to glide along the floor. The rhythm and the feeling of the piece had somehow manifested itself in their dance, as well as the confidence in their choices and movement together - from their larger strides when the piece would swell to its loudest parts, to their more intimate swaying towards the end.

Once Rod felt the piece concluding, he got a little carried away, spinning Carmen out and then dipping her when she had returned.

In that small moment of silence, Rod's eyes shot open after he heard a breathy "guau" from his awestruck partner.

Upon registering what he had just done and mistaking Carmen's awe for shock, he straighted his posture to stand immediately and let go of his partner once he was sure she was back on her feet. He turned away from her, trying to hide his embarrassment and the fierce blush cast across his face that not even his glasses could deflect.

The words blurted out of him in a near panic as he began to pace and tug at his hair. 

"Ach je, ach je. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-"

"Rod-"

"Are you alright? Ach je! That was completely out of line-"

"Roddy-"

"I don't know where that came from. I-I don't know what came over me-"

"Roderich!" she shouted, finally silencing him and getting him to face her again. "Calm down. We're seeing  _Carmen_." 

Rod moved on from his panic into being overtaken by the shock he was so convinced Carmen was feeling moments ago.

"You mean you're not upset with me?"

She looked over at her pupil incredulously. Although she wasn't as excitable as before, there was still an energy about her that was immensely proud of what had just happened.

"Why would I be upset?" she laughed and clapped her hands together, "You didn't do anything wrong at all! That was a breakthrough for you! That's what I've been trying to get out of you for weeks!  _That_ was spectacular!  _You_  were spectacular! Didn't you feel spectacular?"

If Roderich had to cast all of his shame and self-consciousness aside, he would have to admit that he felt some sort of glow expanding inside of him, almost to the point of feeling like he could fly - the same way he felt when he lost himself in playing the piano.

His voice was still quiet, but there was a hint of self-assurance behind it: "You know what?... I think I actually did."

Carmen beamed over at him, completely thrilled that he had finally made this connection and took the chance to let go: "Enhorabuena, mi estudiante." She strode closer to him and adjusted his shirt with the same grace she would have given if she were awarding him a medal. "You're getting through the hardest part of dancing right in front of my eyes. And you also get to take me to the opera next weekend."


	7. Why Seville?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End of June, 1991. Seville, Spain.  
> Thursday evening, prior to the weekend of seeing Bizet's Carmen.
> 
> During one of the warmer days where it's too hazardous to move, Carmen and Rod get a better sense of each other and where they're coming from.

Their practice sessions had certainly been coming along better than either of them might have anticipated. Once Roderich stopped overthinking everything and simply felt, their time spent practicing was much more productive - although their new challenge was to get him to open his eyes when they danced! It actually turned out to be fun, if Rod really was in a place to let loose.

This wasn't to say that their sessions were no longer productive - they merely had more time to do other things. Sometimes they would go next door and Rod would play the piano and Carmen would dance. Sometimes they would stay in the dance studio and play some of their own CDs of 70s and 80s music and play around with dancing to those. Sometimes they would leave the lab early and take a walk around the campus or explore the streets, if it wasn't too hot out. In one instance, Carmen took Roderich to see the Cathedral, mostly to appease his mother if she asked about it. Sometimes, if it was too hot to do anything and too hot for Rod to wear his nice dress shirt, they would just put on some of those CDs while they would sit (or, rather, while Carmen would make them stretch so the day wasn't wasted) and talk.

This was one of those instances where it was too hot outside to move around. Carmen and Rod were sitting on the floor, stretching and casually listening to one of Carmen's CDs. Rod, always being one to dress in layers, was wearing an undershirt under his button-down - a shirt he probably could have gotten away with wearing regularly outside in the rising heat.

Upon hearing the song change, Rod raised his head from reaching for his toes on the ground. A smirk cracked on the corner of his face upon recollecting it. Carmen could barely understand why this man was as limber as he was. "Raffaella Carrà? Huh. Isn't she a little before our time?"

Carmen was practically doing a split on the floor, folded over into her stretch, when she raised her head, raising her chin slighly so it didn't rest on the ground. Rod was surprized she wasn't mumbling into the ground when she answered back to him: "When it comes to decent dance music, I have no time limit."

She then gently raised herself up to sit before folding her legs in and pointing her toes in and out.

"Besides," she sassed him while focusing on the tension in her ankles, "You're one to talk about music before our time - with your Mozart and your Beethoven and your Bach."

Rod returned an expression to her that feigned offense along with a small scoff.

"Excuse  _you,"_ he started before twisting into a similar stretch,  _"_ those composers wrote pieces that were and still are thought-provoking and timeless."

Once Rod had turned to twist the opposite way away from her, Carmen was egged on to keep challenging him.

"Sí," she retorted, naturally leaning more over to him to gage his reaction, "but could you dance to them back when they were new?"

He took a second to recollect coming out of the twist. The new twist in his face made it look like he was searching the ceiling for the answer, before releasing and stating simply. "I don't remember if people were even allowed to dance at all in Bach's time, really."

Carmen wailed in good humor to get through a full body stretch on the floor, "Oh, what a time to be alive!"

While rolling his neck around with his eyes closed and appearing innocent, he did his best to discretely talk back: "When - the 18th Century or now?"

Carmen rose back off the floor with an arched back and upon sitting up she peered over her nose at him while her chin was down, really trying to make him blush.

"Hmph," she glanced over him and cocked her head to the side and a shrug of a shoulder, "You are  _not_  so cute."

While playing up his nonchalance, Roderich quickly raised his eyebrows while giving her a blasé look. The only thing revealing his smug attitude was the tiniest tug at the corner of his mouth. "I never said I was cute to begin with," he stated, as if he were proud of the fact he had low self esteem.

Carmen snorted through her nose at him, not wanting to laugh at this kind of joke but finding that she couldn't help it.

"Still," he continued in a mock-condescending way, as he lent down again over his legs. "I hope you know that not all music is written for dancing."

Carmen sneered back at him in that goofy way that made her nose scrunch: "And I hope you know that not all music is for being reflective and intellectual, sitting still and sipping your coffee and staring off into space."

His voice was animated all over again, mostly to mock her energy as she mocked his: "Is that honestly what you think I do when I listen to my CDs?"

"Well, you don't dance to them, apparently," Carmen cocked her head over again. Using his own words against him like this was fun, and knowing how spaztic he could be about these sorts of things was just adorable.

"Again," he leaned back up and argued with a tight-lipped smile, "no partner to dance with. I'd make a joke about pianos having more than two left feet, but I've never once encountered one with feet to begin with."

Carmen didn't want to laugh at such an awful joke, so she bit her lip and looked at him, as if to dare him to make jokes that were any worse than that. Noticing her struggle, he rolled his eyes and lent back over his feet: "I'll just say the one with two left feet is me and leave it at that."

"Hey!" she reprimanded him, "You can't sell yourself short anymore on that! I won't allow it! You've moved beyond tripping over those feet."

Roderich continued on, practically mumbling his response back before sitting up to face her, "I hope you do realize you're going to jinx it. If either of us trip on these feet and fall onto this hardwood floor and break something - especially if I risk breaking these hands attempting to catch either one of us from the fall - then I blame you."

Carmen smirked over at her hilariously bratty student on the floor and spoke in her own mock-condesending tone, "Relax. If either of us think to get up and dance today, I'll be very surprized."

"Right," Rod was back to laying flat on his back, stretching out his arms and staring at the ceiling.

"I'll lay here and cook like an egg and you can keep watching me lying on the floor," he suggested.

"¿Disculpe?" she turned herself over to him and stared at him like she knew he was being absurd but still couldn't figure out just how absurd.

" _Don't_  think I don't see you  _looking_  at me," he teased her, pouting a little and fluttering his eyelashes at her.

Carmen threw her head back in laughter at how committed he was to the delivery of that line. He was clearly getting dehydrated.

"See, I don't know if you mean this as a joke or if you're serious - it's hard to tell with you sometimes."

"Well, you tell me," he retorted, looking innocently at the floor, mocking her as if he could feel her eyes on him in a certain way, "You're the one staring."

She tried to overtake her laughter with her retort, "I'm monitoring your form in your stretches, Bobo!"

By the time she reopened her eyes, Roderich had moved into a small cobra stretch. "Is it a pleasing form, Maestra?" he purred up at her through lidded eyes.

Carmen didn't think she could double over on the floor when she was already sitting on the ground, but that last exchange apparently proved her wrong - she folded over onto the ground, nearly in tears with loud, boisterous laughter holding her down: "Bebe un poco de agua, tonto! You're clearly delirious!" - at least, that's the phrase Roderich thought he heard her try to say in the middle of her fit.

There was no way Roderich could maintain a serious face after seeing her like that, and knowing how infectious her joy could be, he felt the delirium take him over in a fit of laughter as well that had him sink to the ground and roll over onto his side.

Once both of their fits subsided, they stared up at the ceiling, not realizing how close they had rolled over to each other, barely grazing each other's clothes. When Carmen looked over her shoulder, she suddenly realized how close she was to her estudiante, to the point where she could pick up a faint scent on him beyond sweat - something she hadn't smelled before and couldn't name.

Once Rod turned his head towards her, however, she lost all incentive to want to ask him something like that. Rod scootched himself a little farther away, clearing his throat and excusing himself for being in her space.

He tried not to think about the hint of orange he smelled in the loose strands of hair that were trapped under his cheek.

"You should excuse yourself for not giving me a chance to breathe!" she hummed as she rolled herself back up to sit. She was so thankful that they weren't too far from the boombox where she kept her water. "Are you done with all of your giggling now?"

"I hope so," Rod sat up, holding his head up to catch his balance. "I'm surprized I haven't hurt myself laughing yet."

She handed over her water to him, commanding he drink, and moved back to the boombox to play another CD.

Upon popping out the last one, the slightest bump of her elbow knocked over the school's CD case and spilled the tapes all over the floor. Rolling her eyes, Carmen squatted down to the floor to gather the ones at her feet. Rod crawled over towards the boombox to gather the ones scattered farther apart.

It was slightly pitiful to Roderich - Carmen owned more CDs than the school had in stock for these dance studios.

"Gracias, mi estudiante." She faintly smiled and went to work reorganizing the CDs, but it was clear to Rod from her sigh that Carmen was thinking the same sort of thing. He couldn't help but feel a little spoiled back in Chrysostomus in Salzburg with all of his resources, although he couldn't say too much about the dance program there. As Carmen finished with the CDs, she walked back over to Rod to take back her bottle and decided the box nearby would be a great place to stretch her hamstrings.

Rod decided to move closer to her again, but still flopped out on his back on the ground. She had to turn her face away to not start laughing all over again, as he sat there trying to make a butterfly stretch look modest.

"So tell me this - you are an incredibly talented dancer - I would even argue that you're a dance prodigy - not only with Flamenco. With several dances. You work professionally outside of this school. You could go to a conservatory focused solely on music and dance, if you wanted. Why a liberal arts education? Why didn't you think to pursue dance at an accredited conservatory?"

Carmen looked towards the ground for a second to gather her thoughts and she answered plainly, "My parents wanted me to have an education, especially if I want to work outside of Andalusia. I don't know if I do, though. Flamenco is my first love, and I'm already at the heart of where it is. Why leave? Then again, you're right - I'm not a one trick pony. Besides, the school doesn't offer a dance degree, but in the meantime I've sort of picked a degree that could help with pursuing dance."

It had just occured to him that he had never asked about her major. He had to correct that error immediately. "And that degree is...?"

"Business Administration," she answered him like it was simple.

This was not a simple answer - Rod was quite surprized to see such a creative spirit in such a corporate field of study.

He propped himself up on his elbows to face her a little better: "Really? Not education? That tends to be where most dancers go instead of performance."

"For one thing, that market might be too flooded. If every dancer's a teacher, then what's going to happen when the dance teachers are out of work? If I decided to go that way, I'd have to hope I'm one of the better teachers."

Upon hearing her response, he could see why any business professor might take her more seriously. This girl was not anyone's ditz - not even close!

"Well, I would argue that you'd be good at teaching. Maybe you could do both."

"Oh, what," she scoffed down at him, "You really think I could be a teacher?"

"I mean," Rod was almost offended that she forgot what their arrangement was, "I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't have kept coming back to see you, if you couldn't be."

Carmen bit down on her lip - a little guilty and slightly bitter at the callout. Then again, how mad could she be in understanding that was their arrangement?

"Well, even so," she continued on, now moving to sit and hug her leg to herself, while Rod observed this enigma of a person above him, "dance education is practically its own field separate from education. Maybe if I actually went to a conservatory I would minor in dance education and maybe business administration," she continued, looking towards the doorframe as if she were imagining something just beyond her reach. "But in the meantime," she waved it off, "I can at least try understanding the industry better."

"Hmm. Practical," Rod mused. He noticed the dimples in her cheeks turned down slightly, so he felt the question was worth asking: "Do you like it?"

Carmen looked slightly disgusted at the question, but it was her tone sinking that really gave Rod the definitive answer he was looking for. "Well, I understand it - that's a start. I don't have to like it so long as I get it."

Suddenly, Carmen had turned the tables on him and her voice perked back up into the playful medium he'd grown used to around her: "What about you? What brought you here?"

Feeling himself under the spotlight for a second, he thought back to being home. He recalled a different sort of grey feeling - almost like the one Carmen had about business, but not entirely.

He was back to peering at the ground again - a habit Carmen realized said something about what he was sharing. "Well, I was advised to spend time away from home, especially to go somewhere with more sunlight."

"You know," she poked fun at him from atop that little black box, with her arm lounging on the leg propped up with her. "Sevilla isn't the only place you can go to get sunlight."

"Well, yes, I know that. Thank you for your observation," he responded quickly and grimaced playfully up at her. The smug expression on her face encouraged him to keep droning on about it. "My advisor recommended I go to Seville for the music culture. Said a change of pace might rejuvenate me before I got back... As hard as it might be to believe, I've been feeling a little burnt out."

This time, Carmen looked down at him curiously. The welcoming look in her eyes was a giveaway to her transition into the attentive confidante he had become comfortable to sharing his thoughts with. "Do you think being here has helped you at all?" she inquired.

"I think so," he declared. "I hope so," he mused somewhat more introspectively. He continued after waving off the instrospection and cover it up with more enthusiasm, "If nothing else, it's introduced me to this place and to its music and to its food and to you, of course. I could live with just that coming out of the experience - that's absolutely made it worth it."

Carmen nodded and processed what he'd said, but she needed to know more. She spoke with a slight urgency in her voice that bordered being worthy of suspicion, "But how has it felt being in another country? I don't think I've ever asked you about that, specifically."

"Well, it has been a month," Rod sighed, "I suppose I could indulge you on it."

The musician adjusted his position so he could lean more comfortably on his arms before continuing with a deeper breath. He spoke slowly, musing over every detail with great care. "It can be challenging, sometimes. I miss my family, my parents. I miss the cool air and seeing the mountaintops. I miss not having to think too long before speaking...

Outside of that, though, it's very exciting." At this point, Carmen could notice a slight twinkle in Rod's eyes as he looked out towards the doorframe and a certain nobility in how he was laying there. Before she could get lost in peering over him, like he would have claimed she did earlier, Rod released a faint chuckle and bit his lip before he continued.

"When I was a child, I grew up thinking I would not really be able to travel to many different places. Not that Spain was one of the harder places to get to," he looked to her on making this point before returning his gaze to the frame, "but with the curtain down, I... I kept thinking I would have so many opportunities barred from me. I technically have little to complain about on that end, however" he shrugged as he moved up to sit again, clearly feeling more balanced than before, "I'm not East German or Hungarian or anything like that."

Carmen didn't think too much about the Cold War - it didn't seriously impact her life. It was a surreal experience to talk to anyone impacted by something so far away.

Carmen tried to take some positivity from Rod's description. "When you put it like that, it does sound exciting, though."

It was something not too bad to reflect on and think about.

Maybe she only thought that because she didn't know any better.

Maybe he thought the same way about her experience in Spain.

Maybe the Iron Curtain could be something she might take a class on when...

She had to tell him.

"Rod, I'm asking you about that because I'm going to be going abroad this year."

His first instinct was to feel a slight bit of loss, despite it being highly irrational to feel this way. What she did after he left, or even what she did while he was around for that matter, was really not any of his concern, and he knew that.

Shaking this feeling, Rod noticed that she was looking for someone to listen to her - it wasn't very often where she would let her guard down. This must have been something special to her. It only made common sense to Rod to pay her the same courtesy.

"How long will you be away?"

Carmen let go of her legs and leaned back on the box, looking back on that doorframe.

"If nothing comes from it, then I'll be back in Sevilla next summer," she sighed.

Nearly an entire year away - what a treat for her! Astonishment leaked into his voice from his reflections on this incredible person, knowing she would excell wherever she went,

"Well, I have to congratulate you. That's a very long time. I'm not even sure if I could handle being away from home all of that time-

Wait" he stopped himself, allowing some time for his confusion to be addressed, "What do you mean if nothing comes from it? I thought you wanted to stay here."

"Well, I  _think_  I do, but I don't know what's out there," she argued back, talking a little more with her hands to explain herself.

"I just hear stories from other people, and sometimes I want to be there with them, ¿sabes? My parents keep suggesting I go see more of the world, now that I can. Besides, I'm probably going to be living off of a dancer's salary for the rest of my life, even with the business head - if this is the best time to go, I'll take it. And who knows?" she claimed, hugging her legs back into her chest and peeping over her knees, "Maybe I  _will_  end up in a fancy conservatory somewhere."

The confused expression on his face melted into something more assured and proud. "Good for you!" he congratulated her again. "If this is what you want, then I wish you all the best out of your experience, and I'm happy for whatever place gets to host you. You'll certainly do some good wherever you go - I'm sure of it."

His smile only faded a little and he glanced to the floor again, "I just hope that you write to me about your time away - if you have the time or the inclination to, obviously."

She swiveled a little on her knees, so she rested her cheek on her thighs to look over at him. "Hmm... I think I might be able to squeeze you in. In the meantime," she said, attempting to distract from such an overwhelming conversation about life plans. "I don't want to think about it too much. The summer isn't over yet! I'd rather think about this weekend!"

Rod perked up again at the mention of what he expected to be a fantastic evening, "Are you excited?" he inquired, the animation of his voice seeping into his face.

"¡Oh, muy emocionado! I only wish I had a better dress to wear! I didn't want to wear one with a ten pound skirt sewed in. It's not the most elegant thing in the world though. I might look plain next to you."

"Carmen, I only dress up so much so no one will get a hint at how plain I actually am," he stated it as if it were a scientific fact, before reassuring her. "If you don't have one, I can certainly try to dress down. I know for sure I didn't bring anything white tie. Maybe not even black tie."

"What do you mean maybe?" she asked back, exasperation very clear in her voice, although it wasn't anything that indicated she was having a bad time. She couldn't fully believe how ridiculously over the top this man could be. "When would you have to wear black tie anything this summer?"

"In my profession, one never knows," he replied, attempting to sound mystifying.

It wasn't working, according to Carmen's humbling chuckle.

"I'm sure we'll look fine regardless," he went on. "Besides, maybe it's better to downplay ourselves. We don't want to distract from the performers on stage. At least one of us would."

"Yeah," she chided, "You. You stick out like a sore thumb around here."

"As funny as I look and dress, I would argue that it would still be you. But I don't mean that negatively towards you. I'm sure that whatever you wear will be fine. I'm more focused on enjoying a good performance with good company. And I'll also be intrigued to see you sit still listening to something, for once, and being reflective and drinking the coffee you'll inevitably sneak into the house with so you can be an intellectual with me."

"¡Oh, obviamente! It's only professional!" she retorted, doing her silliest high-society face with sarcasm dripping from her voice. "You're just going to have to help me pick out a flask worthy of Reina Sofía!"


	8. Eres tu. Soy yo. Friday Night at the Opera.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End of June, 1991, Seville, Spain.  
> Friday evening.
> 
> Carmen has never actually seen a full opera live, and neither she or Roderich know a lot of French. Rod has also failed to notice that Carmen is Romani. Seeing a Spanish production of Bizet's Carmen was maybe not the smartest idea on his part.

Roderich and Carmen decided to meet up at the conservatory building to be sure they would arrive at the opera house on time together. Rod was sure to be there early, looking a little sharper than usual with his hair slicked back (although that cowlick in the front would never fully go away, no matter how much he fussed with it) and additionally wearing a black vest and indigo cravat. He clutched at the tickets in his pocket and checked his watch before looking around again. Carmen would be arriving at any minute, and he was doing his best not to be too nervous. 

"Yo, dude!" he heard a voice sound from right behind him, causing him to yelp and jump a little when he turned around. 

"Jessas Maria!" he sighed in relief once he realized it was Amelia.

"Snap. Didn't mean to scare you, buddy! I was just helping Carmen get ready."

Out of the brief moment of fright, he realized he didn't notice Carmen beside Amelia.

After registering she was there, he knew that would be the last time that evening where he wouldn't notice her.

At the mention of her, Roderich looked at Carmen with her hair up, flowered, and wearing a red dress that he assumed was the one without the built-in skirt that she warned him was plain. Looking at her rosy cheeks rise with her beaming smile and seeing her swish around to show off her dress, Rod knew there was no way he could claim this woman was plain. Nearly everything about her ensemble was the exact same shade of red, with the exception of her black purse and hypnotic, emerald eyes.

Amelia gently booped Roderich's chin back into place with a slight touch of her finger. 

"¿Sin palabras?" Carmen joked, being unable to stop grinning from ear to ear.

Rod blinked a few times, hoping maybe it would help get some words out of him to respond to her. All he could think to do was nod back and give into the smile threatening to break his face in two, continually observing the undeniable beauty of the woman in red. 

"You're not so bad yourself," Carmen winked up at him.

He let his nitpicks about his appearance fall at the wayside.

Carmen's gaze squinted a little as she was clearly looking through his glasses. "Has anyone ever told you that you have purple eyes?"

"Like Elizabeth Taylor," Rod conceded shyly, "At least, that's what my mutti would hear. I have yet to hear the comparison used on myself."

That toothy grin that Carmen thought was the most darling thing had returned to his face while Roderich bashfully looked to his feet and ran a hand through his hair.

He was the most charming 'foot' Carmen had ever seen.

Those violet-blue eyes Carmen was complimenting opened wider upon remembering something. "Where's your flask?" Rod asked in good humor.

"Ha!" She nearly shouted it while reaching into her purse, "You thought I would forget it, didn't you?" She pulled out a tiny flask that Rod almost mistook for a perfume bottle. 

"Ah, clever," Rod poked at his temple looking at the bottle, "but did you fill it with coffee?"

"You're gonna love this," she smiled mischievously as she sprayed the perfume bottle into her mouth and smacked her lips for added effect.

Rod had to try really hard not to guffaw at this display, so he just gave a small spasm and brought his hand to his face to contain his laughter. This woman was giving him new excuses to be driven to drink.

Carmen impishly presented the perfume bottle to him, "You want a taste?"

"I'm not tempting it, unless there's liquor in there."

"To tell you the truth, there usually  _is_  liquor in there, " Amelia confided to Rod, before turning to face Carmen.

"You take good care of that, Carmen!" Amelia scolded her friend, who might have already had more than a few sprits of coffee, "It's gotten me through watching some rough performances! Although it looks like you want to stay awake for your first live opera."

Rod was slightly taken aback at this admission. His eyes widened as he asked Carmen: "This is your first live opera?" 

"Shit," Amelia grumbled under her breath, realizing her mistake and looking over to Carmen to beg for forgiveness.

Carmen's nerves were starting to get to her. Why did Amelia have to throw that last part in and make her look like an uncultured swine? He would clearly be judging her about it. Of course, she hoped he wouldn't, but knowing how snarky he could be about these sorts of things gave Carmen her doubts. 

"Well," she confessed, trying her best not to look too guilty, "Mia's technically right. I've seen bits and pieces of operas on television and I've walked into a few singers practicing before and sat in on a few recitals. Really, most of what I know I've danced to or just listened to from my Mamá and her records. But, no, I've never actually seen an opera in person before."

"Oh," Rod let the information sink in, and Carmen prepared herself to feel the wrath of his pretense for what might mean not meeting the standards to call herself a real opera fan.

"Well then," Rod continued on with a pleasant expression that was never once condescending, "this explains all of the excitement! This really should be quite a treat for you, I'm sure! I'm certainly honored that I get to join you for your first night at the opera."

"¡Oh, gracias a Dios!" Carmen exclaimed in relief. Amelia laughed out of a bit of shock from her own end, "For a second there I thought you were going to be pretentious about this."

"Carmen," Rod looked at her humbly, "I'm more likely to judge you for using the perfume bottle as a flask than I am to judge you over not seeing an opera performed live, and I'm mostly judging you for the bottle because I'm bitter that  _I_  can't get away with carrying one of those myself."

Amelia smiled smugly at the acknowledgement of her ingenious innovation.

"I know I may look like one of those pretentious, bitter musician types," he said while adjusting his cravat, "but it is not my intention to make other people feel bad for enjoying something I know  _decently_ , or even something I know  _well_."

"I'll drink to that!" Amelia nodded to him in appreciation for the sentiment and to honor the serendipity that Roderich actually wasn't one of the condescending music nerds she'd worked with before. "Carmen," Mia gestured suddenly to Carmen, remembering she didn't have her flask, "spritz me!" Like clockwork, Carmen had the 'perfume bottle' back out again and sprayed it onto Mia's tongue, which she was displaying like Gene Simmons. 

After smacking her lips to spread the taste around, Mia laid her arms onto Rod and Carmen's shoulders and started to get them walking. Carmen snickered at the contact, while Roderich was a bit stiff to the unwanted contact.

"Alright, you two!" Mia started, rubbing their shoulders like an overeager mother sending her kids off to school, "the night is young and transit's a bitch! Get a move on! You don't wanna be late!"

* * *

 

Although she moved around gracefully like a princess, Carmen's wonder-struck expression and over-eagerness to show off her ticket gave away how new she was to a place like this upon entering into the house at the lobby. Looking at all of these fancy people dressed in their fancy clothes schmoozing with each other seemed like its own spectacle, and Carmen wanted desperately to imitate these high and mighty members of society for shits and giggles.

She nudged Roderich to get his attention as she extended her arm to him. "You look so nice tonight - I  _have_ to show you off."

"No no," Rod corrected her while putting on a mock-aristocratic voice, bowing slightly, and extending his own arm, "You are my honored guest.  _I_  should be the one lucky enough to present  _you_ , my dear. Besides - the princess walk looks far more dignified in a dress."

Carmen snickered as she rested her arm onto his before they entered the theater. Carmen was practically glowing as she looked around at the majesty - she had not expected the inside of the theater to be this big or this ornate.

While Carmen was absorbing all of the spectacle, Rod was leading the pair down to their seats towards the front.

"My professor wasn't kidding when she said we'd be getting nice seats," he commented. In fact, Rod highly doubted he would ever be able to afford to sit this close to the stage unless he were ever playing in the pit.

"Are they really good seats?" Carmen asked, wiggling into her seat.

"Well, you'll get a nice view of the costumes and see the performers sweat and spit on stage, so if that's what you're looking for in a performance then you'll be quite pleased. As for the acoustics, you're not going to hear as much as you would probably like - it's usually best to sit in the back of the theater to hear the full sound. However, I won't complain. I doubt I'll ever have another chance to say I sat in a seat like this one."

"You can say that again," Carmen agreed, skimming over her program. "Oh!" she peeped, pointing to the program, "¡Esta producción está en español!" 

Roderich leaned in slightly and tilted his head back to get a better angle to read where she was pointing. Even if he couldn't fully comprehend and conjugate what he was reading, he would clearly take Carmen's word for it. "Interesting. I wonder what it will sound like."

"At least I'll be able to follow along," Carmen added, before getting a spritz of her coffee 'perfume', "French is beautiful, but I know so little of it."

"I probably should know more of it, really. Maybe you'll learn more of it while you're out traveling the world."

Before Roderich could lean back and relax, he heard the orchestra members start to warm up, and upon feeling the air change in the room, especially the motion of air from the wind instruments, Carmen animatedly shook Roderich to sit back up and ask him questions. After ensuring they were quiet enough to not disturb the musicians, Rod answered each of her questions about the set up of the orchestra. At one point, he would point to different musicians and have Carmen guess which position they held based on their posture. He was impressed to see Carmen point out the first chairs of each section with minimal error. 

However, once the concertmaster entered the stage, Rod signaled for them both to keep quiet and applaud him as he took his place at the first row in the first chair. Once the oboe player resounded an A and the orchestra tuned, the theater was left in intense quiet. Although not a single noise came out of her, Carmen sat jovially in her seat, struggling to contain her excitement and anticipation for the evening to come. As much as Roderich was inclined to lean back into his seat again, he couldn't keep his eyes and attention off of the ball of energy radiating next to him. 

After a few seconds of silence, the conductor entered the stage and applause resounded again in the theater. Carmen could not clap for long before she latched onto Roderich's arm, looking at him with bright eyes and whispering "¡Esto está ocurriendo!" Rod responded with a light smile and nod before adjusting his seat, waiting for the performance to begin.

* * *

Once intermission came around, Roderich was sure that something was wrong. In the beginning, Carmen was fully invested in the performance aspects - reacting to the small bits of humor in the beginning, giggling childishly over seeing the singers spit, gushing over the male soprano section, or swooning over the sound of the ensemble. However, she seemed somewhat restrained after seeing Carmen enter and sing her habanera.

The rest of her time in observing the show she grew uncharacteristically withdrawn and her face looked flushed. She wasn't completely resigned to it - she would sometimes react positively to the title character in the moments she would express freedom and pride, but she was mostly introspective. Rod could understand if she were simply having her own experience with the piece and nothing else, but if she were feeling sick he wanted to know - her health was more important, and the way she was mostly withdrawn upon getting up to walk around had him beg the question.

"Are you enjoying the performance?" Rod asked when they reached the lobby.

The question called her out of her thoughts for a moment.

"Huh? Oh, sí sí," she smiled back at him - a smile she was clearly forcing as she went on about the different aspects of the show that stuck out to her - the costumes, the score, the performers, their voices, the humor, the set pieces - anything besides the lyrics and the story. 

Rod's concern caused him to frown - if she wasn't well, he would prefer she be honest with him about it; however, he wasn't going to press her too far. He asked a final time, "Are you sure you're feeling alright? You don't seem to be yourself."

Carmen attempted to quell his concern, resting a hand on his shoulder and speaking as harmlessly as she could, "I'm fine, Roderich. Don't worry."

Carmen was not fine. Carmen was actually disappointed, now that she knew exactly what was going on. It's not as if exoticizing Romani women was a foreign concept to her, and she knew Bizet was not from Andalusia. Internally, she kept trying to tell herself that this opera and this story was a relic of a different time, but the fact still remained - Carmen was still watching an outsider's interpretation of who he thought she and the women before her were. 

She was slightly mad at herself for letting her guard down or even being surprized that any of this was happening; however, she wasn't going to give up on the performance yet, and she wasn't going to give up on the opera's namesake. It was always possible the narrative could take a different direction in siding with Carmen than where she assumed it was going to go in siding with Don José - maybe that possibility would justify the rest of the story for her. Maybe that would save the love she had for this music to begin with, but it was clear to her that her innocence about the show would never be regained.

* * *

For the remainder of the opera Carmen was mostly silent. As the plot moved forward, she took more and more of an effort to bare the ending she was now sure was coming. To distract herself from thinking too much about what she was seeing as it got harder for her to do so, Carmen closed her eyes and tried to get lost listening to the music she grew to love but that she had now grown to question. 

Roderich would occasionally look over to her to check in. Most of the time, she appeared relaxed enough; on the other hand, she had been occasionally mangling her program in her lap. This was no longer a fun, little intellectual adventure in observing her listen to music while remaining still - he had gotten what he'd asked for, and he had forgotten why he really wanted to see it at all in the first place. The elegance of her rested face and attentiveness? There was nothing to be gained from seeing it, like he once thought there might be. He thought that maybe her agitation was coming from the quality of the sound around them. Being this close, while it was nice to view the visual elements of the show, made the music seem overwhelmingly loud and harder to really appreciate. He almost regretted not having them stand in the back of the theater for the second half, although he had no idea if it would have made a difference for her or not. 

Out of everything he observed, Roderich noticed two big moments that ellicited noticeable reactions from Carmen, both of which were unfortunately negative - the card-reading scene foreshadowing Carmen's murder, and the buildup to the murder itself. For the former, Carmen sighed through her nose and her brow hardened, deflating her upon hearing the prediction and undoubtedly confirming her suspicions. For the latter, Carmen took in a deeper breath and forgot she was hiding the mist in her eyes. A small cry blew through her lips before she bit down hard on her bottom lip. Rod peeked over to her to see her attempting to hide her pain. All he could think to do was to elbow her gently and offer his hand for her to hold. 

Carmen accepted what felt like a lifeline offered to her to help her manage through this scene and she closed her eyes and squeezed it, focusing more on the feeling of Roderich's hand enveloping her own rather than the ending she knew was coming and the audience reaction that she feared. She focused on the feeling of his thumb grazing the back of her hand in a repeated notion and did her best to breathe in time with each stroke. Although her grip was firmer than he had come to know from their dance lessons, he kept holding on comfortably and tried not to let her see him wince.

Once the music swelled and released at the stabbing, Carmen released a sob she tried to hush against the victorious march scored under the moment. She regretted quieting herself, as she was stuck to overhear some of the audience members grunt in affirmation at the event - maybe looking at the moment as retribution and justified after all that sexy soprano put the poor tenor through. Instead of gripping any harder onto Roderich's hand in noticing him wince from the corner of her eye, she instead grasped at the armrest with her other hand. 

Roderich was initially convinced Carmen did not have enough strength in her hand to break his, but he was quickly reassessing that idea after the climatic stabbing. However, even if her grip was painful to endure sometimes, Roderich took comfort in the feeling of her fingers gliding into the grooves between his knuckles in those moments. As many times as he had held her hands during their dance lessons, he rarely had the time to focus on the small intricacies of them - how small they were, how soft they were, how her nail polish felt against his thumb. For him, it was mostly odd to hold her hand in this way while watching Don José's possessiveness turn into his lover's demise - a painful reminder of the little time he had left in Seville and the possible danger of letting any more feelings about the woman beside him blossom any further.

The opera concluded with a standing ovation with hessitation from at least two members of the audience. Rod and Carmen were still seated and holding hands - their surroundings completely forgotten for the moment being. Carmen had loosened her grip at the sound of the audience's applause, but her tears were bitter and harder to mask and she was not ready to pull her hand away just yet. Upon settling her breathing and opening her eyes, she noticed Roderich looking at her - his eyes really looking like a calming, royal purple in that particular lighting. There was no question in her mind that Carmen had let her silent anguish slip out in front of this man again, and she still wasn't entirely sure if she could or should trust him with seeing it. 

She looked down to her lap and smiled, embarrased that he'd caught her crying, and slowly removed her hand from his to take a tissue out of her purse to dab at her watered eyes before closing off any possible conversation about it and joining the standing ovation. After quickly abducting his fingers and stretching out his hand a few times to assess any possible damage, he looked over to Carmen, who was applauding stoically to the performers, providing a simple courtesy to them for doing their jobs. She had especially made it a point to applaud the most vigorously for the singers portraying Frasquita, Mercédès, and obviously Carmen. 


	9. Pájaro Rebelde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End of June, 1991, Seville, Spain.  
> Early Saturday morning, on the walk home from seeing Carmen.
> 
> Carmen and Roderich clear the air over what they just saw, but now they have to deal with a stalker on the walk back, which causes some new problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter has some violence and swearing in Spanish in the second part. If you speak Spanish, I apologize in advance if the grammar is poor and I am more than happy to receive comments on it and make corrections. Also, the second and third parts are pretty emotionally intense and anxiety-inducing. I try to soothe it out at the end, but I just wanted to include a warning about the content. Enjoy the fluff-angst!

Despite Roderich's concerns over her health, Carmen asked that the pair walk back to her parents' house rather than go on public transportation at the very least. Carmen did not feel faint, but she did need air, and where her parents lived wasn't terribly far away. Roderich was following behind her, holding her purse, as she led them forward.

Roderich was surprised he was having some trouble keeping pace with this woman - he was 18 centimeters taller than her and he was sure he had longer legs with more room to walk, but little Carmen bounded forward in that red dress and those heels, mostly absorbed in her own thoughts. Thank God she was wearing such a bold shade of red - Roderich might have lost her in the crowds of tourists. 

The crowds thinned out (mostly to Carmen's comfort) before she opened up to speak, looking Roderich dead in the eyes.

"Romani women are not inherently promiscuous," she stated just as boldly as she moved.

Her statement seemed bizarre in the exact moment of hearing it, but Rod nodded his head, confused as to where she was going with it.

"Of course they're not. It would be silly to assume that they were?"

Carmen acknowledged the response with frustrated praise - praise that he got the idea, but frustrated that there were still people who didn't understand it. 

"Purity is  _very_ important to us, especially for women," she continued on heatedly, "We're considered less pure than men by birth, so there's immediately much more to prove."

The realization had hit Roderich like a truck - he had just screwed up and taken a Romani woman to see a show known for sexualizing Romani women.

As the shame came over him in wondering what the Spanish equivalent of  _dummkopf_ is, Carmen kept going, "Now, I don't like the idea, but to say that Romani women actively cause trouble in this way is just..." She couldn't even continue the sentence as she threw her hands up exasperatedly. 

"It's ridiculous, I know... Carmen, I am an idiot who took you to see a show like this without fully realizing the offense of it. And I am especially sorry for being so dense as to not notice your heritage until now. That was insensitive of me: taking you to see that opera. I should have realized it sooner. I wouldn't have taken you, had I known." 

"Why are you apologizing? I figured  _you_ didn't know -  _I_  didn't know!" she ranted on, "I'm not upset that you took me to see it - I'm upset because I didn't realize how despicable Don José is and how he's not worth the spit that comes out of his mouth... Do you know what the worst part about him is?" 

"Well, the best part about him is clearly his spit," Rod joked.

Carmen was still ranting and raving, but he did get her to laugh at that and smile as she groaned, "He keeps whining about how his life is ruined but he doesn't do anything to actually help himself or change it for the better. He keeps going along with everything and committing more crimes, and for what? Because he loves her? ¡Estúpido! That is not love. Love is not a prison. And you certainly don't kill somebody that you love!"

"Well, the story is told from his perspective. It doesn't shock me that he would see himself as being a victim of circumstance." Rod countered her. Despite the fact that she was raving, Rod did enjoy having someone to discuss these pieces with him.

"¡Increíble!" Carmen exclaimed, "A murderer who thinks  _he_ is the victim. ¡Qué tontería! Carmencita deserved  _so_ much better!"

Rod found it slightly odd that Carmen would even remotely defend the character he thought would offend her the most. “You weren't bothered by the portrayal of Carmen?" he inquired. 

Carmen sighed through her nose before answering: "I would be lying if I said I wasn't, but that's only if I look at her strictly as a gitana. I know she doesn't really represent us - she's how the world sees us, as  _temptresses_ or as  _thieves_ or-"

Carmen had to stop herself to breathe before she let her anger get the best of her before going on, "But if I put that aside, I think she's the best part of the show. She's not afraid of the world that sees her this way. She's not afraid to live her life how she wants to, even if she doesn't think of other people when she does it. She's not even threatened when she knows that tonto is going to try to kill her! For someone who's seemingly powerless, she has a power in herself that defies everything - I can't help but admire that."

Rod observed the woman beside him and reflected quietly on how inspiring the character's bravery could be and how easily someone could grow attached to such a person, "I see what you mean."

Carmen seemed to have calmed down and her pace slowed back down to normal. She reached into the purse sitting on Roderich's hip for the 'perfume' bottle before giving herself a small, dainty spritz of coffee. This priceless image of a dignified Carmen was immediately brought back into reality when she opened up to speak again, "But Don José can eat my shorts."

Rod shrugged his shoulders and laughed through his nose once he heard the statement.

"What?" she argued, "What's wrong with it? It's a saying I picked up from Mia."

"Nothing - you just put it so elegantly," he teased, laying on the sarcasm, "Very intellectual. The picture of elegance, without a doubt."

Carmen nudged him with a giggle, "¡Cállate! I have to  _try_ \- remember?"

Rod nodded in response, thankful she was feeling better; however, he didn't want anything to be left misunderstood.

"Carmen?"

"¿Sí?" She was listening.

"You can stop me, if you don't want to talk about this anymore, but I want you to know that I know how you feel, at least a little bit. I clearly can't speak for Spain, but I know Austria still doesn't exactly have the best grasp on these sorts of issues, either. Relating to its minority groups, I mean. And probably relating to women, too, but I can't speak for that ... When it comes to these things ... please, let me know if I ever step out of line or say something stupid regarding that, and I will do my best to amend that behavior. I don't want to cause you any harm, if I can help it." 

"Oh, Roddy, I ... wait a minute." She opened up to her confusion, "I thought Catholics were supposed to be common place in Austria."

"They are. Jewish people? Not so much."

Roderich was apparently not the only one not paying attention to these things.

"So wait. Does your mother just like architecture? Why did she send you to the Cathedral?"

"Well, my  _mother_ is quite Catholic, but apparently  _not_ that good of a Catholic, considering she didn't marry or have children with _another_ Catholic," Rod smiled mischieviously, knowing how much Mutti prided herself on those sorts of social things, "So here I am - a poor excuse for both."

"Increíble," she chuckled, her own playfulness returning to her, "So what can I take you to see so we can be even?"

Rod was thankful they had finally returned to their old bantering: "Well, if they're doing any productions of the  _Merchant of Venice_  nearby in the next couple of weeks and we can get tickets, you are more than welcome to watch me seethe through that. Does that seem fair?" 

* * *

While they kept walking, the pair didn't notice how separated they were becoming from the crowd of tourists. The street was nearly empty, with few to no tourist amenities in sight. The pair also didn't notice they were being followed until their stalker positioned himself along their route and attempted to address them - or rather, attempted to address Carmen.

"Hola, Señorita."

In the back of his mind, Roderich hoped this voice was incidental and referring to someone else on the street as a friendly greeting. Carmen knew the voice was referring to her, but she kept walking as if she hadn't heard it.

The stalker spoke again, "¿No escuchas a alguien hablando contigo?"

Again, Carmen refused to look at the man and instead checked to see that Roderich was close behind.

Upon hearing the voice getting a little louder, Rod was sure they were being addressed. Ignoring his instinct to turn around, he looked to Carmen for guidance in this situation and saw that she kept moving, continuing to walk with the command of a queen.

Regardless of her masterful poise, the stalker kept going. "Parles català, noia? ... ¿Qué, eres demasiado bueno para mí?"

Rod moved up to walk beside her and turned his head to face her, while glancing quickly at this man from the corner of his eye - he appeared to be just as threatening as Rod had assumed he might be.

"Is he talking to you?" Rod asked her quietly.

Carmen rolled her eyes and scoffed as she kept moving, "Just ignore him."

Her response was apparently loud enough for the stalker to pick up on and change tactics again.

"You speak English, chica? I know a little. I tell you I like your ass, and you can figure out the rest." 

Upon registering what exactly was happening and seeing Carmen's eyes, which had just stopped being red and puffy, threatening to water again, Rod let his anger at the situation get the best of him for a brief moment.

"Now see here, Sir," he said curtly, turning to look at the man directly, "she is clearly not interested in anythi-"

"I'm not talking to you, hombre," the stalker shot back, shutting Roderich up. Rod felt inclined to go on, but registering how brutish the man appeared in full view caused him to consider his actions more carefully.

Catching on that maybe she could drive him off verbally, Carmen stepped in front of Roderich, almost sucking her tears back in, and she responded coldly, in the hopes that her stalker would get the message. "Yo hablo español. Dejarnos solos."

The man was going to walk away, but not before attempting to have the last words under his breath: "Pinche puta gitana." 

Carmen's ears perked up at the end of that sentence and she turned sharply, calling back to this man in a harsh, aggressive voice that did not seem to come from the sweet, giggly woman Roderich thought he knew. The fact that she retaliated was not surprising to him, but what did catch him off guard was how intensely she went about doing it.

"¿Por qué no le dices eso a mi cara, asustado pequeño verga? No, ¿a dónde vas, cobarde? ¡No me jodas! Voy a patear tu culo todo el camino hasta el País Vasco! Chingate!"

At first, the stalker was surprised by her quick change in tone, but started to laugh at the little woman bellowing all of these vile things at him and threatening to fight him. Judging by her height and her scrawny counterpart, this would have been a no-brainer.

"Sucio, también!" he chided back, "You had better keep your lady in line, hombre, so she doesn't get hurt."

This wasn't the first time Roderich had been threatened and it probably wouldn't be the last, but this sort of situation was new to him - he had never been between someone threatening someone he cared about. In fact, it was usually the other way around. And this certainly was a situation where he knew the conflict wouldn't resolve itself and they could walk away without an issue - something was set to blow. Carmen was enraged, her verbal assailant looked ready for a confrontation based on how much she was shouting at him, and Roderich had never started or won a fight in his entire life.

"Carmen," he tugged at her arm with some urgency and attempted to speak discretely through gritted teeth, "I think we had better go."

The infuriated woman was ignoring the man beside her attempting to be sensible. Sense was out of the equation at the moment. She glared back at Roderich - an intense look that could have burned holes into his head, and he wondered where his cheery friend had gone.

"¿Vas a enviar a tu hombrecillo a pelear conmigo, gitana?" the stalker taunted them, making special effort to be clearly understood, "Oh, estoy tan asustada." 

Rod didn't fully follow their conversation, but he did recognize what the man had called her - that word she used before to describe herself and women like her - a word he probably was not allowed to use. This was her fighting word. Regardless of his growing understanding of her fury, he really did not want to see Carmen get herself hurt.

Roderich locked his arms around Carmen's in an attempt to start pulling her away. "Carmen, come on! Let's go!" he tugged at her again, speaking more clearly this time. 

"Not yet!" she barked back at him, and then turned to face her opponent wearing a twisted grin underneath her intense glare. "Sólo desearías tener tanta suerte. Llámame gitana una vez más y verás qué pasa, burro."

The man strode closer between them and bent down to face Carmen. Rod attempted to pull her back, but pulling against her in her rage seemed almost surprisingly pointless.

The man licked at his bottom lip, looking down at her body, and spoke through a smirk in a slimey voice: "Gitana."

With a growl turned into a raging battlecry, Carmen kicked the street harasser in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Taking advantage of Roderich's shock, Carmen unraveled herself from his grasp as she launched herself at her opponent and sent him crashing into the ground. The stalker didn't even have time to catch his breath, as Carmen laid hit after hit and swear after swear into his face until the man's nose bled.

Before he could retaliate in the second she seemed to have let up, Carmen had one of her heels in her hand, ready to beat the man with the blunt end of it, before Roderich pulled her off. "You can't teach me from prison," he reasoned with her.

Carmen, however, was sure the fight was not over, but Roderich was sure to have a better grip on her arms to pull her back this time around. She spat on her opponent and stomped on him roughly when she was still above him, as he was trying to pick himself up off of the ground.

Taking a second to feel the damage from each blow and register the blood dripping down his face, the stalker commented under his breath, still winded and in his own state of shock, "Tu puta loca."

Carmen shouted back through that same twisted smile, making the hairs that had now fallen out of her bun into her face fly up, "¡Esta loca puta te derribó! Chingate!"

Noticing Carmen's opponent attempt to rise to his knees, Rod felt they were running out of time and options and allowed panic to set in.

"Carmen! Ahora! Now!" He yelled before dragging her along, causing them to both break into a run. Despite not wanting to, Carmen ran moreso to catch up with her longer-legged companion, who still had a hold on her and would probably have gotten lost if she weren't there. 

* * *

After running down the streets for a while, Rod noticed that luck was on their side, for once - he recognized the streets leading up to the university. Once they were back on the campus grounds and nearby one of the buildings, he finally let up and stopped to loosen his cravat and breathe, panting heavily and leaning against one of the walls for rest. Carmen also had to take a moment to catch her breath, and after a few moments she had settled and decided to take off her heels and the flowers that were just about to fall out of her loosened bun. 

When she peered up at Roderich after taking off the last shoe, he looked like he was about to topple over. Carmen tried to grab his attention in one of those moments where he wasn't wincing hard enough to completely close his eyes to signify that she was going to help him regain his balance and get him to lean on the wall again.

After the assist, Carmen peered up into his face. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Rod was still focused on catching his breath and slowing his heart rate, so he did not give her an immediate answer.

After a little while, his breathing had settled but his voice was hoarse and his heart rate was not at all lowering. "Are  _you_?" 

"I'm fine," she said, rubbing her arms in the areas that they were now free and also mourning the damage her dress had endured in this whole mess.

As she cooled down, she tried to diffuse the situation in good humor, "This dress wasn't one of my favorites anyway. You know, you didn't have to make us run. He looked like he was about to run away with his tail between his legs." 

His grimace started to twist with anger, as he clearly wasn't ready to joke about this incident just yet.

Although his voice was faint, his emotions were not: "What the hell was that? Do you know how foolish that was? You could have gotten yourself killed, you know! And do you think I could have done anything to help you in this goddamn cravat, if something went wrong?"

"Well, thankfully, nothing went wrong, because we're both fine," she argued back, still maintaining her immense pride and trying to ease the tension, "You forget - I kicked that man's bigoted butt all the way to Basque Country in this dress, and I would gladly do it again."

"Look, I don't blame you for getting angry at what he said. He was an incredibly vulgar man," Rod tried reasoning with her, but he was having a hard time keeping the bitterness out of his voice, "All I'm asking is that you be sensible in these situations! He wasn't going to fight you until you threatened him! I don't think he was even going to fight you at all until you launched yourself at him!" 

Carmen suddenly fell back into being defensive about the situation, but she did her best to play it off with pride, "Rod, you need to know right now that if you give guys like that an inch, they will always take a mile. He clearly didn't respect me when I was polite and asked him to leave us alone, and maybe now he will think to respect me while he's picking himself up off the ground."

"So, what?" he rebutted, "Do you do this every time a man verbally assaults you? Put on this whole macho facade and go looking for trouble risking your life to fight him?"

"First of all, I am at no risk because I know I can take them," she announced haughtily. "Second of all, I get that it sounds stupid to you, but that's what I've discovered is respected by those kinds of men, if nothing else. And if nothing else works, it gets them to leave me alone."

He continued to rant, his stress risking to consume him, "Carmen, what if something went wrong? What if you got hurt? What if you were in actual danger?-"

"What if? What if? What if?" Carmen cut him off in an attempt to make him laugh, doing her cringe-worthy impression once again.

It wasn't working. Even if she meant well, her trivializing tried his patience too far.

"I'm being serious, Carmen!" he shouted back at her, louder than the pounding in his ears. The echo of his words sounded around them, and Carmen was left speechless as Roderich continued on, doing better to control his volume and the tears that threatened to fog up his glasses.

"If something were to have happened to you, I know there would have been very little I could have done to help you! And it is not simply because I am afraid of breaking anything in my hands! Look at me, Carmen - I am not an intimidating man! I cannot pretend to be one! If that makes me a coward, then fine! I am one! But I know who I am, and I know what I can and cannot do, and I know I cannot fight! And, before you even start, I do not wish to learn!"

A few moments of silence passed while Carmen absorbed that entire outburst. The evening's warm breeze started to feel like a chill to her.

"Oh, guau, "she breathed, realizing her own insensitivity, "I really scared you."

Roderich was now leaned over the wall with his back facing her, attempting to settle his breathing, but his anger still had a decent grip on him - enough for him to not think about his next comment.

"You can't admit to being scared at least once?" he mumbled bitterly, "Is it really that hard for you?" 

For that moment, Rod wasn't sure if Carmen couldn't respond to him or wouldn't respond to him. He did realize in that moment that he screwed up, once he glanced to her to see the cracks in her brave face causing her lower lip to tremble. His anger was replaced with remorse, and he sighed and swore at himself under his breath before directing his attention back to his wounded friend, knowing no other way to approach her at this point accept with words and open arms.

"I'm an idiot who snapped at someone after just taking them out of a dangerous situation. Carmen, I'm sorry. My fears aside, I should not have lashed out at you. You did not ever deserve that."

While she was clearly still upset with him, Carmen walked over to him and pulled him into a hug. With her ear right against his chest, she could hear the rapid thumping of his heart gradually slow down.

"I'm sorry that I scared you," she whispered, trying to hide the waver in her voice, "Thank you for pulling me away."

Rod rested his cheek on the top of her head and gently stroked the loose hairs from her bun back into place. If Rod had any fears left to bother him, it was the fear that Carmen didn't feel safe with him. 

After lingering in her grasp a few seconds longer and registering how close she was to his fluttering heart, Rod eased himself out and glided his fingers down her arms to hold her hands. "Come on. It's late, and we're both tired. We should get you back to Miss Amelia's room and have you patched up."

"So, wait. You don't..." her voice was breathy, but mostly because she was just getting over being overwhelmed, "you don't want me to-"

"It's not that I'm upset or that I wouldn't want you to stay with me," he tried to smile as a reassurance for her. He would have invited her to his room, if she wanted to go any other time - this just couldn't be that time (and it wasn't because his room was a mess unfit for human eyes). "If she doesn't have room, then you are more than welcome to take my bed anyway, but I would rather you... be somewhere I know you'll feel safe."

As much as Carmen wanted to offer him a rebuttal, considering how safe she felt holding him, she was too tired to fight anymore that night and obliged his request.


	10. Flinging Away The Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End of June, 1991, Seville, Spain.  
> Early Saturday morning, the aftermath in the dorms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's talk about sex. This is not smut, but we get a little serious and a little suggestive in both parts of this chapter.  
> Warnings of mentions for the sex-repulsed.  
> Wink wonk. 

 

Even though she had insisted on going to bed after she had cleaned herself up, she couldn't seem to fall asleep, even in the secure, comfy darkness of Amelia's dormroom. Was there still adrenaline running in her system? Was she still anxious about all of the fighting she'd been a part of earlier? Was Mia's fluffy dublet not good enough of a substitute for something or someone she could have been cuddling for comfort? The gentle noises from outside weren't doing anything to get her to settle. Neither was her slowed breathing. Everything about her seemed calm except for her racing mind. She had to sort out her thoughts.

"Mia?" she gently called to her friend on the other bed, who was rolled over onto her belly with her cheek smushed into a little stuffed alien.

Carmen called over to her louder, which caused Amelia to snort and shoot up, looking around for a second to find the bat nearby her bed.

Once she realized there wasn't anybody around except her friend who definitely had a rough night, she layed back down and rolled over to her side. Her voice was understandably lower and groggier than usual. "What is it, Carmen?"

"Mia, what was it like to leave your home?"

"Dude," Mia answered, her voice hitching slightly from a stretch, "why are you awake? You have another week before I leave for Rome. We have time to get sentimental," she yawned. "Ask me this when it's not 4 in the morning and you don't have to sleep."

"Lo siento, Mia. I can't sleep. I've been trying to, but nothing's working. I gotta know."

"Well, at least we don't have to go anywhere tomorrow," Mia mused.

Carmen could hear the squeak of her friend's mattress - unsure if she was rolling over or sitting up. She also heard Mia smacking her lips - usually a sign of her about to enter very deep thought.

"The leaving part wasn't too hard. The time difference was a bitch though. I can tell you that much. As if I  _didn't_ already have problems falling asleep in class!"

"When you left your home, did you leave anybody behind?" Carmen asked, clutching the comforter a little tighter.

"Well, I mean, that's what happens when you leave home, amiga," Mia shrugged and strached the back of her head. "You're kinda stuck leaving people behind."

Carmen rolled over to face her friend, even though Mia clearly wasn't going to turn on a light this late, to ask her more. "Did you leave anybody behind that was... very special to you?"

"Are we talking about friends and family?" Mia asked her, the pitch rising back in her voice again but still sounding scratchy from her being half asleep.

"Yeah, of course I did. But if you mean like a lover, then nah, not really. Haven't had a fling yet, I don't think."

"A what?"

"A fling. You know," Mia explained, "you have fun, but it's not gonna go anywhere, because one of you is leaving, so when you leave, that's it. But you  _don't_ live with the regret of not doing anything."

"So.. so you didn't risk anything too serious with anybody before you left? You didn't catch feelings for anyone?"

Carmen's questions were sounding very shy and very vulnerable to Amelia, so she started to think something was up. Nevertheless, Mia tried to remain casual about the conversation - Carmen was probably talking in her sleep again anyway.

"I mean, I was going to be going away for a _year_ , Carmen. Anybody that was around me knew that - I couldn't stop talking about it! I mean, if I did have a lover I kept seeing then they would have known it wasn't serious, so there'd be no way to get attached."

"Oh." Carmen's depressed tone was starting to confuse and worry Mia, so she tried to see if maybe she could soften the blow as she went on.

"It hurt to leave my friends behind though. I miss them a lot," the American did her best to be close and remain distant. "I'm probably going to miss you a lot, too, in the same way, when I'm stuffing my face with pasta."

"Mia," Carmen started, in the blunt tone Mia remembered getting from her sometimes, "I'm not coming on to you. You don't need to gross me out."

"Okay, good," Mia sighed in relief, her voice returning to normal, "because we're long past the point of no return on that one. Love you, but you're, like, way too sweet for me. It's disgusting. Also, I'm not sure if this is you talking in your sleep or not - this is way too serious coming from you this late."

" _Do_ I talk in my sleep?" Carmen shot up from the bed.

"Yeah, but you usually say crazy shit," Mia laughed. "We've had, like, full-blown crazy people conversations in the middle of the night and you never remember them! Your sister never told you?"

"Why would Célia do that? You know her - she probably has a list somewhere in our room," Carmen claimed wryly, trying to think of where Célia might be keeping it.

She turned her attention back to her friend, though, and started to feel bad about keeping her up all of these nights. "Lo siento, Mia. I'm just... thinking out loud this time. I can stop."

"Too late! I'm up now!" Amelia moved again. This time Carmen was sure Mia was sitting on her bed with crossed legs, ready to help Carmen not worry herself sleepless. "I mean, if you're gonna think out loud, can't you think about crazy shit, like how badass we'd be if we had shells like turtles?"

"Was that something I said to you before in my sleep?" Carmen whimpered, to the point of sounding actually self-conscious.

"You don't want me to answer that," Mia chuckled. Noticing that this wasn't working, she tried another image: "Maybe you can think about me having my fling in Rome with a priest or a nun or something."

"But you're not Catholic!" Carmen laughed at her outrageous friend. "Why would you do that?"

"All the more fun to have and all the more sin to commit! Think of the stories, Carmen!" Mia's voice was back to its usual animated sound.

"Mia, you're going to get yourself in a lot of trouble one day," Carmen warned.

"Oh, come on! I can't say 'no' to an adventure! You know that," Mia teased. "Why do you think I hung out with you so much this year?"

"I guess you have a point. I do push myself into doing scary things." Carmen hummed, tracing her fingers along the bed's corner. Her thoughts went back to her situation with Roderich. Was she being a coward? If this was a scary situation to her, why wasn't she doing anything?

Carmen pushed herself again. "So a fling is ... it's sexual?"

"Eh... some would call it romantic, but it's still implied that you're doing some stuff."

"So ... so what does that make  _us_?" Carmen said, under her breath.

Unfortunately for Carmen, Mia was still listening. "I thought you just said you weren't coming on to me, Dude!" 

"I'm not!" Carmen nearly shouted back in worry, "I... I wasn't talking about you..."

Hearing the sadness seeping into her voice, Amelia suddenly had a better idea of what was keeping her friend up. "You and Piano Man?"

"Maybe? I don't know," Carmen fretted. "We haven't really done anything."

Upon processing that last statement, Mia was a little thankful that Carmen didn't see the look on her face - it probably would have made her friend feel worse than just hearing Mia dish it out in a mini rant.

"You're kidding me, right? You see each other almost every day. You two flirt every time I see you together. You're supposedly dancing with each other all the time, and I've seen how you dance - it's not for the faint of heart. And I  _know_ you're into him, and I  _know_ you're capable. You can't tell me you haven't hit that yet."

The exasperation in Carmen's voice was clear. "He brought me to  _your_ dormroom instead of his! Are you really that surprized?"

Mia shrugged again, mulling over the situation while holding her little alien. "I mean, a night like yours does sound like a boner-killer, to be honest. It sounded like it was a pretty shitty date. I don't even think  _I_  would have been confident enough to invite you back to my room, if I were him."

"I mean," Carmen was trying to think through her frustration, "even if he did and I said yes, I don't think he would have tried anything there, either. Not after all of  _this_ craziness."

"Would you really want him to, after tonight?" Mia asked, concern coming through on her inflection.

Carmen groaned a little before continuing on. "Maybe? I was feeling a little needy, and there was just something about holding him that..." Unable to find the words right away, she groaned and rolled over to the other side of her bed, "I don't know. Maybe it would have been a dumb decision."

"Flings are all  _about_ dumb decisions, honey!" Amelia laughed, "You've gotta start making them, if you want one! Of course, I'm still gonna tell you to use protection, but that's as smart as you should get about any of this!"

"Mia, I don't think I'm even ready for that kind of thing with him yet." Carmen whined into her pillow.

"I mean, do you want it to happen with him, like, ever?" Mia dared to ask. It was her friend's life - not hers. 

"It's not like I haven't thought about it," Carmen whined, "It's not like the desire for it _isn't_ there from me."

"Do you think it's there for him?" Mia questioned her more like a statement.

"I don't know. One minute he takes a step forward and catches me by surprize, and in the next he takes two steps back." If Mia could see Carmen, she'd be distracted by her hands flying everywhere. "Maybe he doesn't know what he's doing?"

Mia wasn't fully clear on the statement. "What, like he's a virgin?" Hey, seeing how prudish the man could be it wouldn't have surprized her. 

"You know, I wish I could tell! There are moments when I get the idea that he is one, but then there are others that tempt me to think it over again."

"Aren't you supposed to be able to tell if someone's good in bed by how well they dance?"

"I  _wish_ it were that simple, Mia. I have slept with some of the best dancers you would ever hope to see, and you wouldn't believe the stories I could tell you about them. They are so lucky that I keep those kinds of things private." Mia could hear her friend end her sentence in a pout. 

"Carmen," Amelia advised, "it sounds like if you actually want to get the most out of this fling, you're gonna have to be the one who goes for it, and you're gonna have to do it soon."

"Mia, I don't know," this whine from Carmen sounded the least sure out of any of the others, "What if he and I are something else?"

"If you say you're just friends after all of this, I'm not gonna believe you," Mia couldn't help herself from being blunt, especially as she was falling back down onto her pillow out of exhaustion.

"Listen, Carmen - you're probably never going to see him again after this week. What else could you two actually, realistically be to each other besides a fling?"

Carmen was starting to remind herself of Roderich the more she went on.

"What if I'm wrong and he doesn't feel this way?"

"What if you're right and he does?" Mia retorted with her cheek against her pillow again, yawning and clearly just about to pass out.

"He'll be gone in a week anyway. Would you rather regret doing too much, or not doing enough? It's your decision, honey." And with that, Mia had flopped back down on her pillow, completely unreachable all over again. 

Carmen was left silent on this final thought. She thought maybe all she needed to do was sleep and find a way to get over herself. If they really only had a few days left, Carmen wanted to be ready for anything - even if she had to start it herself.

* * *

When Rod returned to his room, he felt the need to busy himself and generally tidy up the scattered clothes on the floor as a distraction. Having a medical single had its perks, like not ever having to worry about waking a roommate up in the middle of the night. The busywork had helped to calm him for a little while until he thought to look up and face the calendar sitting over his desk. His finals were starting in less than a week, and he would be leaving soon after. He thought about how he was going to go about packing for a moment before he looked over to his cold, empty bed. He should have been sleeping, but he couldn't crawl under the covers just yet. 

In the quiet of the evening, he started to reflect on all of the things he hadn't done because he was afraid. He never learned to swim, because if anything pulled him underwater he didn't think he would have the strength to kick it off of him. He never learned to skii - the thought of crashing and ending up in leg braces or in a wheelchair all over again was too overwhelming. He never learned to fight, because he had two older brothers to protect him and keep his hands unharmed while he learned to master the piano and violin. He was afraid of learning to dance - the thought of his legs giving out again, after so many years, would have been enough to send his self worth he had worked so hard to maintain into the downward spiral it had continually threatened to do.

It wouldn't have matter how much he had accomplished, how much progress he had made, in the years since he hadn't needed the chair full time. It wouldn't have mattered that he could now run from any danger he faced faster than he could have wheeled himself away from as a child. It wouldn't have mattered that he had the years of experience standing and playing for hours in concert. It wouldn't have mattered that he was capable of working in his father's bakery with his brothers or lugging around band equipment up stairs or hilly streets. If he fell again in front of anyone, they would see how easy it would be to knock him down and keep him there.

But, for some reason or another, he was inclined to think that Carmen wouldn't be the one to let him stay down, even if he did fall in front of her. True, he had been extra careful in making sure he had an excuse to step out of a routine if he risked toppling over himself, but he never felt like she would shame him for that. Any time he was down, she seemed to have found a way to pull him back up - with her encouraging words, with her excitable feet, with her infectious laugh, with her kind smile.

Her melodious voice rang in his ears: 

 _I_ _don't think you're hopeless..._

_You've had that living thing figured out long before you could play, and it doesn't seem you've let up on that just yet..._

_That's how I want you to feel when you move - like you're celebrating yourself and your life, like your story is important, like nothing can hold you back from who you are..._

_Maravilloso! ¡Soy una Maestra orgullosa! ¡Bravo! Bravissimo!..._

That  _was spectacular!_ You  _were spectacular!..._

_ou can't sell yourself short anymore on that! I won't allow it! ..._

He pulled out a piece of paper to write down all of these beautiful melodies and thoughts ringing in his ears - thoughts he couldn't bring himself to say in their limited time.

He tried penning it in Spanish. He looked at the clock - it was much too late for him to accurately conjugate these ideas.

Regardless, she needed to know how she had planted these ideas in his mind, but especially the idea that he didn't have to be the person he thought the world had shackled him into being.

He didn't have to be the person he had shackled himself into being.

A new memory of her voice had entered his mind in response to that last thought.

_Love is not a prison..._

He stopped writing. He looked down at the uncompleted symphony and thought to himself: melodies could only say so much to her - movement could say much more.

What was this song inspiring him to do?

He felt his answer instantly. 

A small voice in his heart answered him within the same breath:

He wanted her.

He wanted to know her. 

To see and feel all of her intricacies, hear all of her sounds. To find as much as she would allow him to discover before she had left his grasp forever. 

He wanted to smear her red lipstick and feel the softness of her auburn hair through his fingers and have her pressed against him without any hint of shame from either of them. 

He wanted to see the height of her passion and have her know the height of his, or he would be left to regret his inaction for his entire life onwards. 

It wasn't just the lust that lurked inside of him from their first meeting anymore. It hadn't been for a long time. She wasn't just a pretty face with a crinkly nose. She wasn't just a gorgeous, versatile frame moving with ease.

She was inspiration inside.

She was light.

She was sweetness.

She was kindness.

She was purity...

She was driving him past his senses in understanding that she was just a woman, and that he was just a man.

He sighed and removed his glasses to massage his temples - he really had let these feelings grow out of control. And he realized he had forgotten in that frenzy of thought that he might have possibly spoiled her feelings in this past evening, to the point where she didn't feel comfortable around him anymore. Despite how tightly she held onto him after he was so sure she never wanted to see him again.

He would've stood there forever with her, if she allowed him.

If time allowed him.

If he allowed himself.

Rod finally layed himself down to rest, hoping to sleep through that empty feeling caused by the empty space beside him. Although he knew what he needed to do to fix it, he knew with his specifications it just wasn't possible. Not that evening. But maybe... hopefully it would be more than possible another evening that week, before he returned to the cold.

He wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't try.


	11. You Make Me Feel Like Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early July, 1991, Seville, Spain.  
> Thursday Evening.
> 
> Roderich and Carmen have one more session together before their final exams and, assumedly, one last chance to give into their desires for each other.

Carmen was pacing around in their usual meeting place, doing her best to clear her mind in the simplest motion. Of course, exams were on her mind - they were right around the corner, and that's why today was supposed to be their fun day to dance completely out of any repertoire, especially after helping so many other students who were trying to get last minute lab hours.

However, she was thinking about even more than her finals schedule. In only one week, Rod would probably walk out of her life forever and leave her as a memory, and she still hadn't acted on her feelings. Of course, whatever attraction she felt for him would eventually leave with him, or so she had hoped, if that were the case, but Mia was right - did she want to regret doing too much or not doing enough?

Then again, what if seducing him sealed that fate and closed off everything they could have had? Was there anything even to have between them thousands of kilometers away? If he truly did feel something, would she want to think of him living with regret or would she want him to be brave and have indulged in a summer fling? Was that really all that they were? If it was, why couldn't she be content with that? These questions wouldn't stop plaguing her, and she had only made herself more and more upset as she kept pacing.

While she was pacing around in silence, Roderich entered the building absorbed in his own thoughts. He knew this might be the last time he would ever see Carmen. Would he do it? Could he do it, really? Could they throw everything away and throw themselves at each other, if it was their last chance to do so? Was that what Carmen wanted? Would that be right or fair to either of them?

He started to chastize himself - Why didn't he just call her and meet up with her when she wrote down her number on his map in the first place? Why couldn't he just register her as a pretty face and a gorgeous frame to have indulged himself with before the heat got any worse? Why couldn't he have handled this remembering their time was short? Why did she make him forget about time when he was with her? Why didn't he just work up enough self confidence to have been bold with her and they could have blown over all of these feeling and questions? Why did she have to be too wonderful of a human being to want to leave or forget?

He had hoped the music coming from the room might distract him, but there was one problem - there was no music blasting from the room, although he recognized the click of her heels.

Once Rod entered through the doorway, he noticed for the first time Carmen didn't notice him, even though she was expecting him. Once she turned around and saw him, she made a small flinch. He figured something must have happened to her - he rarely saw her this upset - or rather, he hadn't seen her this absorbed in being it.

Carmen certainly was upset, but now even moreso that she couldn't seem to have turned on the charm the exact second he walked in - her recovery was going to be too obvious. She tried her best to cover up her worry in all of her little tricks - straightening her posture, rolling down her shoulders, fixing her hair, doing her best to give a smile. It felt like nothing was really working, like he could see right through the act at this point. Hell, she taught him all of these tricks anyway - he had to know by now. Regardless, she wasn't going to let her suspicion here get the best of her - that would absolutely give her away.

"Hola." She stated and moved towards him to kiss his cheeks, but this time she seemed hessitant to hug him - it was as if she was hinting at a hug, but she questioned fully going in for an embrace.

He responded with an "hola" back that felt a little cold. Before she let him go, Rod let her forearms slide over his hands before he gently latched onto her elbows to check in.

His voice thawed a little and his eyes seeped out a tenderness shy of tears as he tilted his head towards her. "Are you alright?"

"Sí, sí," she tried smiling and fluttering away her worry, attempting to deflect all of these confusing emotions keeping her from her goal. Both were clearly a coverup. She knew she couldn't completely lie to him - just downplay what she could. "I'm just a little stressed. That's all."

Rod sighed out a deep breath, hoping the sound and size of it would help clear all of these troubles away from him. A small, nervous chuckle followed it: "Understood. I'm... I'm fairly stressed, myself."

"I see," she trailed off, running her fingers up his shirt and playing with his collar, but not adjusting it to straighten it like she would normally do. With her attention towards his neck and her thumbs circling the buttons there, she lifted her eyes to look up at him and bit her lip. He still had no idea how she could do that and not manage to smear her lipstick. Her expression was entreating, although she wasn't smiling in any way. Rod couldn't tell if she was pleading or if she was just upset, but he knew something was off and it was starting to scare him.

"If we're both stressed then ... maybe we can do something to ... remedy that," she purred, trying to be unmistakeably sensual.

Rod would pride himself on being able to recognize innuendos thrown his way and also in his skill at being able to respond to them, but only in the right conditions. To his frustration and dismay, there had never been a time when Carmen had thrown one out that he felt comfortable enough to latch onto. The Carmen who alluded to oral sex when they first met spoke very differently to him than the one toying with his shirt in that moment - this Carmen was not as lighthearted or devil-may-care as the one at the festival. This Carmen was distraught and unsure and overall she seemed like she was pressuring herself.

Yet again, Rod deduced it was the wrong time.

As much as he wanted to smear her perfectly applied lipstick or get his fingers caught in her hair or hold her closer than was advisable in the summer heat, he felt his thoughts tug him back harshly by the other side of his collar. Even if the thought of something happening between them in that last hour occured to him, seeing the tinge of nervousness in her stance and in her blush and hearing it in her voice at that exact moment set up his priorities. 

Focusing back on the woman fiddling with the buttons on his collar, Rod looked to the floor in defeat, stone faced. He slowly reached his hands up to hers to guide them back down and he walked past Carmen towards the boombox with his head hanging low.

Carmen studied him, trying to curb her impatience from the door frame. Seeing him sort through her CD case leaning over the table dejectedly, she felt herself close off upon recognizing her own spurned feelings at the action - a way she hadn't felt in a long while.

After popping in the CD, Rod turned to face Carmen, who was staring at him in the doorway with her arms folded over each other seriously debating her next action. The sound of the music spurred his eyes open to look over at her with a more determined air and he took in a deep breath before he crossed the room toward her. As he approached, he did his best to have a bounce in his step and dance his way to her, extending his hands and pleading her with his eyes.

Carmen reluctantly accepted the invitation and met him in the center of the floor, dragging her feet a little. She was surprizingly stiff, as if her whole upper body was tied up tightly.

Irrationally nervous that he would brush her off again, if that even was what he did in the first place, Carmen was shy giving him her hands. Once he had a hold of them, Rod stroked her knucles gently with his thumbs as an added reassurance, taking the time again to remember how her hands felt.

Once they were in the middle of the floor, Rod started to slowly twist from side to side with the tempo, causing Carmen to twist across from him in a lazy manner. They moved like two children just learning how to dance.

After a moment of twisting there, Rod had a small balancing issue in one motion that was quicker than he had anticipated, startling him a little and causing him to make a panicked face.

Thankfully, this slip up finally causing Carmen's frown to melt away. Catching onto the light coming back to her, Rod attempted to encourage them to try doing their twists and turns and spins. He even got to dip her a few times while she was laughing.

With each little flare up and toothy grin from Rod to follow it, the smiley, bubbly dancer was finding her way over those clouds, and her emergence was a fitting guide for him to dance away from his troubles as well. The pair wasn't even doing anything too eccentric or anything that needed terrible amounts of skill, but even the simplest movement was a reminder. Movement was her medicine - Rod just had to keep her moving.

* * *

 

Towards the end of the night, Rod and Carmen had moved to the room across the hall toward the Steinway piano. Instead of standing to the side of it or sitting beside Rod on the stool, Carmen was curled on her side on its lid, all danced out, watching him play dreamily on the lid of it and resting her head in her hands. This was one of the few times in his life where he would openly take requests of pieces to play from anyone, and he had been doing so for her for the last hour.

Thankfully, her requests were simple - she just wanted to watch him play anything he felt like. For the most part, it was only a practice session for him, but he did feel the inclination to show off and embellish even the little things in front of her, such as claiming that Mozart's Turkish March was his go-to warm up piece to keep his hands dexterous. Altogether, the attitude and performance he exuded would even have made Chico Marx look like a disinterested player.

"Rod," she asked almost sleepily, "do you remember that song you played when we met?"

"I might," he responded, still gliding his fingers on the piano, "but that depends - are you going to fall asleep on top of this piano, even if I don't play it?"

"No," she yawned, her head slipped from her hands and the momentum of the slip rolled her over onto her back, with her hair splayed every which way.

"I think it's time you came down from up there. I'm actually surprized I let you stay up there for this long. You should join me on the bench."

Carmen only hummed in response to him.

Rod stood up from his seat and moved towards her, nudging her like a cat at four in the morning for her to sit up. 

Carmen begrudgingly lifted herself from the cool lid of the piano and sat with her feet dangling off the side of it. With a lazy smile on her face, she placed her arms on Roderich's shoulders.

"Would you please help me down?" she pouted, "It's so high up!" 

With an eye-roll and a smirk, he placed his hands on her hips and answered, "Yes, your majesty," and pulled her off of the seat to assist her to the floor.

Guiding her back to the piano, he noticed her leaning into him before he decided to stand above his seat. "I don't know if you should be sitting again, if you're this tired. Maybe we should get you back home."

"I'll be fine" she mumbled as she took her seat onto the stool, absentmindedly laying down and cuddling onto it in the same breath, "Just play me this song before the night is over." 

Rod looked down at her, somewhat exasperated but not at all unamused at this new obstacle. "Would you like to make some room for me down there?"

"You have two arms and legs - make it yourself," she sassed up at him sleepily, not bothering to open her eyes.

"Carmen," he tried to sound stern in addressing her, but she made it difficult when she was this helpless. "I think the night  _is_ over. You look like you're about to pass out."

"No soy," her brow furrowed as she whined and challenged him like a child, curling more onto the bench.

"Then why are you laying down on the piano stool?" His voice was generally not all that great for authoritative command, but if it was late enough in the evening and he was tired enough he could fake it just enough.

"Porque es cómodo," she mumbled, quietly but defiantly wiggling herself deeper into the bench.

"I've sat on it more than you. I know that that's a lie. Una mentira," Rod sassed back down at her, noticing her little snicker at his accent, before continuing seriously once again.

"Carmen, the janitor is going to get suspicious of us staying in here this long."

"Está bien. No estoy cansado, Roddy," she whined. 

"Carmen," Rod continued, kneeling down to her, "you have been dancing and studying nonstop this entire week. If you're going to sleep, I don't recommend sleeping on the piano bench."

"Well, what did you have in mind, Señor Smarty?" she challenged him again. This time it was clear she was being a brat on purpose.

Rod had just the perfect response for this.

He whispered into her ear, clearly hoping to tease her right back, "If you would  _like_ to sleep on a bed, I can offer you my  _own_."

Carmen's eyes perked open immediately.

"But, as you said," Rod continued, returning to a normal speaking volume and standing up straight this time, "you're not tired. Unfortunately, I am," he yawned and stretched, well aware that her eyes were on him the entire time.

"So I suppose I'll just be headed back to my room by myself, then, indulging in all of the blankets and pillows by my lonesome." The coquettish smile on his face as he looked back at her in the doorway undeniably had gotten under Carmen's skin.

"Have fun locking up the dance studio," he baited her, before walking down the hallway.

Carmen almost hurt herself with how quickly she got up from that stool, stumbling towards the doorway and calling to him at the end of the hall.

"¡Espérame!"


	12. The Awakening of Sleeping Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early July, 1991, Seville, Spain.  
> Friday Morning, the following day.
> 
> Carmen wakes up to discover she's in someone else's bed, and that someone else isn't immediately around... or are they?

Carmen's eyes fluttered open after indulging in the best sleep she had in almost two weeks. The first breaths of the day that she could actually notice were a little different than what she would have expected. She felt the soft comforter around her shoulders and tangled in her hands, but it didn't smell like hers. Not that she was complaining. She couldn't actually place what the scent was exactly, but she knew she'd smelled it before, and a word lazily escaped her as she nuzzled her face deeper into the dublet.

"Sabelotodo."

 _Espera_.

It was the first clue that this was not her room.

Alarm had already started to take over - enough for her to shoot her eyes open. Still dazed from her rest, the fuzzy images slowly coming into focus were absolutely not that of her room. By the color of the wall and the furniture, she thought maybe she was waking up in Mia's dorm, until she noticed there wasn't an extra bed in her view. She also noticed the clothing scattered along the floor and the piling of it on top of the chair on the desk beside her, which was loaded with papers and books and a familiar pair of glasses.

So she did make it to Roderich's room! But how? She remembered leaving the conservatory vaguely, but the rest of the night was too much of a blur. 

 _¡Mierda!_  

Carmen remained mostly still, but she felt around cautiously to see if anything, or anyone, was on the bed with her. The covers were definitely snug around her from her own doing, so there wasn't an arm wrapped around her, like she thought there might be. Before she was inclined to make any sudden movements, she saw a note sticking out on the desk by her head with her name written on the outside. Attempting to remain quiet, she slowly reached for the note and tried not to make the paper crinkle as she opened it.  
  


_Carmen,_

_I hope this note finds you well-rested. I wanted to clarify the situation from last night, in case you woke up confused. You and I left the dance studio together and we returned back to my room. It was late, and you were very tired: so tired, apparently, that once we had arrived, you immediately passed out and sprawled out on my bed. If you sprawling out on my bed meant you were not at risk of doing that on a bus, then I have no regrets about bringing you here or sleeping on the floor, despite how I may act when I wake up-_ __  
  


Carmen discarded the letter to peer over the side of the bed down to a small mountain of a clothing by her feet but closer to the wall.

Although it was hard to see the pile through the shadows, she beheld a sight she didn't expect to find - Roderich actually looking like a college student, for once. He had fallen asleep in his clothes from the night before, using the rest of his laundry as a pillow. It was the strangest blend of elegance and crudeness she had seen from him yet. The finely-pressed dress shirt he wore yesterday that, like his others, he would always wear tucked in had become a wrinkly blanket. His coffee-colored waves were disheveled and, for the most part, fell straight into his face long enough to cover his eyes but not long enough to hide the fact that he was slightly drooling. Carmen was surprised that on top of all of this he didn't snore. 

Turning to see the window and the golden glow coming from the closed curtains behind her, she was torn between trying to wake him up off of the floor or to trying to sneak her way out of his room and leaving him a note of her own. She had at least gathered by this point it was a Friday, and so she had nothing better to do until the evening - it wouldn't have necessarily inconvenienced her to stay longer. But would that inconvenience Roderich? What could she even do to occupy her time while he was asleep on the floor, if she stayed? Should she wake him? Had she kept him from getting any sleep? How easy was it to wake him? Could she open the curtains to brighten her path without disturbing him? Would sunlight disturb him, even if his hair blinded him? How would he react to being woken up? It sounded like he might wake up cranky in his letter. Would he be upset? Would he ask her to leave? 

Already irritable about having to plot this out so early, she gripped at the pillow under her head and accidentally flung it at the sleeping beauty on the floor.

Rod responded with a grunt to the abrupt awakening, but it was questionable if Carmen could even claim he was awake. 

Rod rolled his head up slightly but didn't open his eyes. Carmen noticed the familiar knit in his brow forming on his face, but he rolled it into the clothing pile as he groaned.

"Hans, du Narre," he mumbled, "hör auf. Es ist heute nicht meine Schicht."

Even if his voice was strained from losing sleep, Carmen was compelled to hear it again. For one thing, she had never heard his voice sound so low before, and, for another thing, she hadn't heard him speaking his own language before. She didn't necessarily want to torture the man, but she was curious to see what he might do when he woke up fully.

She threw another pillow at him, trying to look unassumingly asleep, like she would if she were trying to wake Célia.

With the other pillow hitting him a little harder and squarely on the head, the rest of his body responded by throwing the pillow back and pushing himself to sit up. "Jetzt glücklich? Ich bin wach, Oaschl ..."

It seemed with that last sentence he understood he wasn't home yet and he realized Carmen was 'sleeping'. At least, that's what Carmen assumed, considering she rolled over and pretended to sleep again before Rod could realize she was looking at him.

He sighed with a hint of exasperation before rolling back down to rest his head again.

"Und ich dachte, ihren schlafen-reden war genug."

In the next few seconds, Carmen heard a crack and a hiss, both of which she assumed came from her friend on the floor. He must have slept on something wrong - part of the price to be paid for sleeping down there.

Carmen was tempted in that moment to turn around and invite him onto the bed, so he could finish sleeping on something that would help alleviate any newfound discomfort from last night's rest. Then again, she didn't want him to think she threw those things at him on purpose. That, and he would probably argue that he was fine so she wouldn't worry. 

Carmen thought back for a second to what Mia had told her about how she talked in her sleep, and within the minute she had formulated a plan to get Roderich to think to wake her up.

After waiting a moment, so he didn't suspect her, she started to toss and turn and moan his name, pretending she was in a very pleasant dream. 

Upon registering the sound of his name escaping her lips, Roderich's eyes shot open faster than Carmen's had done earlier. He thought he had finished worrying about the morning effects of puberty a long time ago, but the memory and concern were slowly coming back to him. While this wasn't the first time that night he had heard her moaning his name in her sleep, along with a lot of other nonsense, and while her clear sentence structure seemed much too specific compared to everything else she murmured that evening, he didn't want to risk both of their embarrassment if he let her go on any longer. 

Roderich got up and reached for his glasses, but he noticed after putting them on that the note he wrote for her was missing from his desk and that it was now opened where Carmen was laying. He now had a better understanding of what this game was, but, even so, he made the choice to tread carefully, in case he was wrong. He took the first step in opening the curtain inch by inch, taking note of her fidgets with each little reveal of daylight.

"Carmen," he jostled her shoulder, trying not to get his fingers stuck in her loose hair, "Carmen, es de mañana."

Fluttering her eyes open a bit too dramatically and stretching her arms over her head like a princess, she squeaked out a yawn before smiling up at Rod. This woman was probably one of the hammiest actors he'd ever seen in his life, if not the hammiest, but he would give her this - she knew how to find the right light to be in.

The golden glow bouncing off of her eyelashes and streaks of scattered hair made her look radiant, even despite how much her eye makeup had smeared.

"Buenos días," she cooed. Before she thought to continue the act any further, Roderich held up the note and looked down at her with a knowing smirk. 

 _Pillado_.

"How did you sleep?" she giggled sheepishly.

"Miraculously," he responded dryly but still kept the smile on his face. Finally getting a better view of him, she noticed he looked even more disheveled in the sunlight. Even though he took the time to tuck in his shirt and run his hands through his hair to get it to fall somewhat nicely on his face, the light from the window made the wrinkles in the shirt more apparent, along with the dark circles under his eyes and the smallest hint of five o'clock shadow distracting her from his beauty mark. 

"Do you need any more?" she asked, with a bit of concern in her groggy voice. "You look tired. You have ojeras." She emphasized the gesture by running her pointer fingers under her eyes and fluttering her lashes.

"They've been there. It's fine," he assured her through a yawn, "I usually don't fall back to sleep easily after I've stood up," he conceded, while twisting to stretch out his back until he heard a pop.

Carmen tried very hard not to stare again, although the contrasts did provide her with a challenge.

"Am I keeping you from anything?" Carmen asked gently, remembering that some finals were starting today.

"Do I have an exam today?" he asked in response, in order to see if this was the question she was trying to ask. After seeing her nod her head in affirmation, he answered her, all the while starting to hygienically prepare for the day by combing out his hair and all the while becoming less sluggish in doing so. "No, I do not."

Maybe it was just that he was tired that he was being so distant with her and he didn't mean to seem cold, or maybe he was embarrassed to have her see him so early in the morning with her now being a little more privy to how much work he put into his appearance on a daily basis. 

"Okay. So, um.." Carmen started, rubbing her eyes a little, "Did you, ah... did you want me to leave?"

Roderich was wincing slightly upon finding a pesky tangle around his cowlick. Multitasking in the morning was not something he was skilled at, but he was lucky enough that he could register what she had said.

"I'm not forcing you out," he strained against his comb, "However, it depends," he tried to sound casual still, although it was hard to tell how he felt about the situation because he still sounded half-asleep, "how did  _you_ sleep?"

"Oh, bien!" Carmen assured him, sounding mostly awake.

"If you need me to go, I can go." She sounded a little sad when she suggested leaving. Maybe it was harder for her to hide that sort of thing so early in the day. 

Rod tried sounding as hospitable as he was capable of doing this early, although he still felt a bit too self-conscious to face her looking like a slob.

"You don't... have to leave  _immediately_ , if you don't want to." God, he needed coffee - he wasn't ready for social interaction yet. "You're more than welcome to use the restroom first and take care of what you need to and all of that," he continued with a slight wave of his hand to the shower. "I can leave the room, if you would prefer the privacy."

"Oh, no no!" she said through a nervous giggle waving her hands, even though she probably could use a shower, "That's not what I meant. I mean, do you need me to go, so you can get more sleep? I don't want to be a burden on you."

He turned to face her this time, putting a hold on cleaning himself up. "You're not a burden," he reassured her innocently.

"You'll have to excuse me," he explained, trying to hide his unkempt appearance nearly staggering into the restroom, "Mornings are still difficult for me, especially before I've had any coffee."

"I understand," Carmen called to him from the other room calmly, stepping over to the closed bathroom door. "We can have café con leche together, if you want. You have the time for it, I have the time for it. We might as well do what we can... you know, before we're completely devoted to studying and testing."

"Ah, you might be waiting a while," she heard him respond almost aimlessly, his voice slightly echoing through the door. Echo-y or not,  _that_ was the voice she remembered! "The world isn't quite ready to stomach me just yet."

"Oh, no sé," Carmen argued lightly, leaning onto the frame, "You didn't see me running for the bathroom when I saw you this morning, did you?"

Getting a better look at himself in the mirror while washing his face, he felt he was better off that the door was closed - his face was blushing beet red from that comment. 

"You have a very strong stomach, and for that I commend you," he responded dryly. He heard a small snicker from the other side of the door.

The tone in her voice made it hard for Roderich to tell how serious she meant to be, in that it was hard to tell how much she was joking with him: "I mean, if you're really so worried about being spotted by your adoring public, then dressing down will at least keep you in heavy disguise. That, and you can finish with all of this preparation when you get back."

Rod opened the door and stepped out of the restroom to retrieve his towels - ones he apparently slept on the ground with, "Will you at least give me the time to shower?"

Carmen smirked down at him, "So long as you don't use up all of the warm water, I'll be fine."

He'd caught her eyes while he was on the floor and maintained them as he stood up. He maintained it, that is, until he heard and felt something else pop in his neck and back, causing him to wince again.

Carmen did not hessitate this time as she guided him to the chair on his desk. "¿Duele?" she tried to catch his eyes and start soothing him with her voice first, "Por favor, déjame ayudar." 

Doing his best not to groan (or at least to do so quietly), Roderich dismissed her and tried to walk back towards the shower. "No, it's fine. I'm fine. Really, there's no reason to make such a fu-ah!"

With the gentlest poke from Carmen on his neck to redirect him to the chair, he stopped in his tracks, hitching his shoulders and whimpering in pain. She had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing - she'd never heard his voice squeak like that before. Carmen couldn't see it, but he was quietly berating himself - he was sure he just hit a note higher than Carmen could ever hope to reach: truly, he had found the peak of his masculinity.

Carmen stepped in front of him and guided him to the chair, which she cleared off in a fell swoop.

"Rod, you slept on the floor!" she argued, sitting him down and gently resting her hands on his shoulders before getting to work. "You're gonna be a little tense. This is the least I can do to help you, if you're not going to go back to sleep."

She barely had any way to transition from gently gliding her hands against his skin to practically kneading him like dough. At first, he was hessitant to the touch and nervous about possibly being clawed by her nails, and the first few moments with her hands on him felt a bit rough; however, he was finished whimpering and leaning into those hands within a few minutes of exposure once her thumbs were circling the right places long enough. Soon he was starting to moan her name without even thinking about it as rolled his neck and shoulders with her unspoken command. 

"You know- mmm... you know, if you don't stop, I might never shower." 

"Are you asking me to stop?" she purred down to him, quietly priding herself in the pleasured noises escaping his lips. She knew she wasn't a terribly skilled at giving massages, but it was nice to be the one with magical hands, for a change. 

The whimper was back. "I am, unfortunately." He stopped himself before he mentioned feeling a little dirty. He wasn't sure how she would take that or where their conversation would venture. All he knew was it was probably better to get out of her sight soon before his body betrayed him and he offended her.

"Okay," she finally smoothed her hands over his shoulders and gave them a few pats, to signify her finish and to get one last feel of his back beneath her hands. She knew he was thin, but he wasn't as bony as she thought.

"Just don't take too long in there and don't use up all of the warm water. Remember - I have to go in there after you," she teased him, all the while wondering exactly how high-maitenance he normally was in the morning. Not that she was one to make a comment - she could be known to squabble with her siblings over how much time she took in the bathroom.

Rod flashed her a courteous smile before escaping into the shower. Maybe it wasn't good for him to relieve the aches in his back, but Carmen certainly didn't need to worry about not having enough warm water when she went in after him. The coffee would be warm enough for him, anyway.


	13. The Send-Off From Seville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early July, 1991, Seville, Spain.  
> Thursday afternoon, one week later.
> 
> Rod's last day in Seville. Carmen has decided to help him prepare to leave, if not to spend more time with him then to give herself some closure. She quickly finds it wasn't enough, however, when they reach the airport.

Roderich's last days in Seville were incredibly bittersweet. He and Carmen spent a lazy day together in Maria Luisa Park after both of their finals had concluded. With the both of them being sure that they had more than passed their courses, they wanted nothing to do but sit, relax, enjoy the fresh air, and enjoy each other's company. Rod especially wanted this downtime before he had to worry about having all of his things organized for his flight back home. 

They never did consummate their feelings. They never even confessed to them, really - romantic or sexual. They each tried to view their situation realistically - they would go off on their own paths and lead wonderfully successful lives on their own. Rod could mentally accept that: it's just that his heart was taking it harder than he thought. He'd learned so much about making bold decisions from this woman, and yet he wasn't bold enough to verbally tell her how he felt. True, he was highly considering gifting her the song he wrote for her at the spur of the moment the night they went to the opera, but even that felt like too much to share with someone he'd known for such a short time. It seemed nonsensical to feel this way about someone he'd only known for such a short amount of time.

As per usual, Carmen had been more than a help in this process, especially in finding the airport. Part of this was helpful in giving her steps to start letting go of him. Helping him pack his things, clean his room, have his tickets to Munich, bus passes, and passport ready, and even escorting him to the airport their final afternoon for his evening flight would be little ways to help her remember their time was ending. By keeping herself busy, she thought she could fully handle the ending and new beginning her life was about to take.

She thought she could - that is, until she was standing over the threshold when their bus let off at Roderich's terminal.

"You know, you didn't have to hold my hand to get here," he lightly teased her as they stepped out of the bus together. "It's not like I've been living here for a month or two."

"No, you know I had to," she argued back trying to sound so casual that it was like listening to a mother fuss over her child about to go off to school. "I would have been worried for you if you got lost on your way back home, and I'm sure your family would understand and thank me. That, and you might have forgotten your luggage," she added, holding up the suitcase he kept threatening to leave behind.

He sighed and shrugged, "Oh, you're probably right. But honestly," he reached for her hands and continued on with that sweet, bashful look on his face and those kind eyes that couldn't help but get her attention. "Thank you for getting me here. Thank you for everything this summer. It really has been a pleasure to know you. And I am not just saying that to be polite - I truly mean it."

The twinkling in his eyes threatened to make water come out of her own. She swallowed hard before smiling and speaking.

"Ditto."

"So, I..." he frowned, averting his gaze to his feet, "I guess this is goodbye."

Carmen nodded somewhat bitterly at the thought. Her bottom lip was starting to quiver.

A small, forlorn chuckle left Rod in observing this sweet, stubborn woman standing in front of him. "Oh, don't tell me you're going to cry," he said, somewhat teasingly and sounding a little braver than he actually felt.

"Don't tell me you're _not_ ," she chided him back with a nervous laugh and a small push.

Again, that toothy grin she found she could never hate was back on his face. For once, it actually hurt to see it. Her gaze fell to the ground just the same. 

Rod lied to himself the night before to keep him from saying anything to Carmen that could hurt her in the last minute. She didn't seem like the kind of person who was interested in last minute actions, or who could handle them well.

Nevertheless, he found himself clutching the sheet music in his pocket before speaking.

"Carmen? ... Would it be too late to ask for your address so I could write to you, before you leave? At least that way you'll have mine while you're away. If you have the desire to keep in touch, of course."

"It only would have been too late if you thought to ask me on the plane," she joked. "Do you still have your map of campus?"

"Well, it's not on me, but if it helps I do have a map of the city. Maybe I'll get to use it again someday." Carmen grabbed the map and scribbled down her address in the Guadalquivir.

At this point, he couldn't stop the sadness from seeping into his smile - the thought of never hearing from her again hurt too much.

"Carmen?"

"Sí, Roderich?"

"While you're away, would you consider writing back to me? It would be nice to hear about all of your adventures. I'm sure you'll have many of them. If you have the time for it, obviously." He had to remember to stop himself from jumping into quick conclusions.

Rarely did he let himself truly believe all of the worst case scenarios in his head, this one being that Carmen would forget about him, but it gripped at his mind like a vice and wouldn't give him peace.

"I think I could do that" she looked up at him warmly. "Then again, I'm sure I'll hear about you playing music for thousands in the papers and on the news soon enough. Nothing less than headlines from you, I bet."

"You seem pretty confident about that," he challenged her argument. He knew he was good, but not nothing-less-than-headline good.

"You probably should be  _more_ confident about that," she poked his chest gingerly.

Even the slightest touch there had Rod irrationally worrying about his heart shattering. 

He did his best to laugh it off: "Then again, I'm sure I'll be hearing about  _you_ first. If not for your dancing, then maybe for one of your  _adventures_."

"Oh," she challenged him right back, "you think I'd get into trouble that quickly?"

"I'm confident that you will," he teased her again. "And I want to send me postcards from jail when you do.  _Maybe_ I'll bail you out."

Despite the situation, she found that she could still mock him. "You're a musician and a college student. Where are you going to get the money for that?"

"I'll throw my life away and become a stripper."

His serious delivery had made Carmen laugh through her nose, letting him see that small crinkle one last time.

The clock toned four, and they both realized what little time they had before Rod had to go through baggage claims. Carmen thought quickly to wrap her arms around his waist in a tight hug. She tried to hide her tears in his shirt, but Rod knew she was trying to camouflage them in his sweat stains there and wrapped an arm around her in return. 

"You get home safely, okay?" she mumbled. "I'll be mad, if you don't."

Rod gently rested his head on the top of hers, applying the ghost of a kiss to it - any more pressure than that, and he felt he would fall into a pattern of kissing her multiple times and finally smearing her irritatingly-perfect red lipstick. Feeling that familiar tug at the back of his mind, Rod would have to live with the memory of the sweet, orange scent in her hair instead. 

Carmen could feel a tug at his cheek against her head, from the faint pull on her hair and heard his soft-spoken tenor tenderly in her ear. "I'll be sure to spare your feelings during any emergency landing."

Normally she would shove him for a quip like that, but Carmen was so sad to see him go that she only hugged him tighter and buried her face into his side. He spoke so fondly of the life he had back in Austria that she knew he would be happy to return to it, but it hurt to see him leave her life much too soon.

When she looked back up at him, she could see his own eyes glassing over in tears.

She tried to smile when she spoke. "Hasta que nos encontremos de nuevo."

Roderich looked back at her wistfully, pushing the hair back that kept falling in her face.

"Are you so sure we'll see each other again?" He couldn't completely keep his worries from touching his questions, so he probably sounded more dejected than he hoped he would in front of her. 

Carmen pulled out of the hug to look up at him.

She couldn't give him a sold reassurance on that one, but she could tease him forever.

"What, you don't  _want_ to?" she playfully accused him.

"Oh, hush! You know I  _want_ to," he reprimanded her with a smirk and pulled her back into the tight embrace, resting his chin on her head - a final, silly height reminder, and another way to keep her from seeing the mist in his eyes. "It's just that I'm going to miss you terribly in the meantime."

"I'm going to miss you, too, Sabelotodo," she mumbled into him again.

It was very clear she was now absolutely crying and probably staining his shirt, not wanting anyone to notice her this way. He didn't care - he was busy trying and failing not to let his tears threaten to streak down his face.

With a loud sniffle, Carmen pulled herself away and kept herself from looking him directly in the eye. "Es mejor que te vayas," she gestured towards the doors, "You have a flight to catch. I don't want you getting any angry calls from your mother over me... irse,"

This poor, brave, celestial lady was breaking his heart and causing the largest lump in his throat to have ever existed to form and nearly keep him speechless.

This was it: his last chance to be foolish and say something stupid.

He closed his eyes, quelled his anxiety, and took a deep breath.

3... 2... 1.

"Adios, Carmen," he finally bid his farewell and sealed it with those cheek kisses, still not fully expecting the speckled taste of salt. He felt a bigger flow of tears threatening to come from him, but he did his best to hold them back and put on a brave face for her. "I... I really will miss you."

He gave a small smile and shyly caressed her cheek before taking his suitcase from her and turning to walk briskly into the airport. Once he let go of her hand, the world started to feel a little greyer.

He had to move quickly and not look back - his heart was already breaking, and the thought of having his last image of seeing her being her watching him go or getting on the next bus wasn't one he was ready to handle.

Carmen did stand to watch him until he left her sight.

That was it. He was gone. Their fling was over.

She could only pray that he made it back safely, pray that he didn't lose that map, pray that he'd think to write her.

If he didn't get swept up in being back home first, that is.

So long as he was happy and where he needed to be, that's what mattered, right? They had this summer - that was enough, wasn't it?

She told herself it was going to have to be enough.

She kept trying to be her own console with these ideas as she boarded the bus and rode back home, trying not to bring any attention to herself by breaking down. 

She hoped Rod found a spark to keep going - someone so talented shouldn't regret their gift.

She hoped he had gotten everything he hoped to find in Seville, including a friend.

She hoped he'd graduate from wherever he was going to school at peace with his choices.

Maybe she'd find that sort of peace in Seville, or maybe she'd find it away in Salzburg this new year, at an actual conservatory.

If there was a time to fantacize about getting away, this was it.

Regardless, she still needed time to mope - she could let her head hang out in the clouds after she spent some time in the rain.


	14. Rain in Salzburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August, 1991, Salsburg, Austria.  
> Three weeks later.
> 
> Roderich has an awesome foster sister, who seems to be the only person he feels safe actually confiding in on his time in Seville.

 

When Roderich arrived back home and reunited with his family, they reacted in the exact way he suspected they would. They were all somehow still shocked to find out that he came home with a farmer's tan - a sign that he stepped outside more than once while he was away. Mutti practically cried for the safe return of her delicate baby boy, sort of like how she practically cried when he left earlier that summer. She wanted to talk about everything - his courses, his experiences, the weather, the beaches he never actually went to, how he'd grown (or really how his posture had gotten better), et cetera.

Unfortunately for her, he wasn't feeling very talkative.

His older brothers were definitely not making the effort to 'nurture' him back. In the beginning, they used his arrival to have an excuse to drink (mostly, it was to be able to drunkenly express how much they actually missed him without feeling too embarrassed about it). The reunion of the trio of boys wasn't exactly as the older brothers had planned - they expected to drain Rod of all of his crazy experiences with just the right amount of schnapps and the family piano, freshly tuned while he was away.

Unfortunately for them, Rod didn't feel like drinking, either - all he felt like doing was picking at his food, sleeping, playing mournful melodies on his neglected violin, and scribbling away at something in his room. They all figured it was probably another song of his that he didn't want anyone to see.

In the brothers' minds, this pattern of behavior would not stand. Now that Rod was home, they could go back to their regular divide of work, for the bakery and for maintaining the house. They took it upon themselves to wake Roderich out of occasional siesta naps for the next few days or so - another habit they knew he didn't need to indulge in (even  _they_ figured siestas weren't specifically for napping). His brothers were glad to see Rod still reacted the same way when he was woken up - swears, insults, and aggressive pillow-throwing. Whether it was out of the desire to get their little brother to pick up some slack upon his return, concern for his health and academic life, or just for the pleasure of finding new ways to pick at the little spaz, his siblings would be sure there would be no sleepy baby brothers on their watch. Then again, in his spaztic reactions, Rod wouldn't admit that most of these siestas were actually fainting spells from adjusting to the higher altitude.

Vati, thankfully, was more merciful than the rest. Even though he spent most of his time over at the bakery in the day, Vati kept quiet when he was at home and gave his son the space to recuperate and open up about his experience when he was ready. Vati was aware that his youngest could be moody when facing big changes, and so seeing him brood after coming back from living in another country was more than understandable. It was maybe more brooding than when he was getting used to his foster sisters.

Although Rod didn't share too much, what he did share was with Vati, and they were mostly little things: how he'd grown a taste for garlic, how he had a new CD by a group called the Gipsy Kings, how he kept jumping into a strange rhythm when he practiced playing the piano, how he seemed to be slightly more coordinated in his feet. 

Time was of the essence, though. It wasn't that Vati was trying to pressure Rod back into life in Salzburg, but his academic semester was going to be starting soon and the man had to do something to try to get his son out of this funk, even if it went beyond his own capabilities.

Because Rod didn't allow for anyone else to enter into his room casually as of yet, Vati tread into this conversation cautiously.

"Roddli," he gently knocked at the door, "es ist Vati. Darf i bitte hereinkommen?"

Registering the soft-spoken, aged baritone at his door, Rod sprang into action. The sound of the music leaving the room was somehow overpowered with a few thumps and papers rustling around. Vati shook his head, a bit unsure if the boy was just writing something while listening to David Hasselhoff or if he was writing earlier and taking a break.

The boy could be doing illegal substances in that room and he wouldn't hide them as fervently as he did his own compositions.

After hearing a distinct click from the door and the fast creak of bed springs, Vati heard his youngest speak nonchalantly. "Es ist offen."

Vati cracked the door open to see Rod laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, absentmindedly conducting the music with his left hand, his brow furrowed in concentration - a hopeful sign of normalcy returning. Like his father, Roderich was stone-faced more often than not, so expecting to pick up on any emotions he might have been reeling over from that constant knit in his brow was pointless - it was just the way his face rested. However, seeing him physically tense was a different story, and his hand swaying back and forth was a sign that Rod might have been coming around.

If nothing else, it was clear Rod was trying to come around.

"Du hörst jetzt wieder deiner englischer Musik, i sehe," Vati smiled from the doorway.

Despite the more upbeat tempo of the music playing from his boombox, Rod didn't sound as if his spirits were lifted as of yet. He spoke nearly as absentmindedly as he conducted, barely looking over to his father - he was that absorbed in the piece.

"Hasselhoff. Klassisch."

Not one to enjoy being overlooked in such a way, Vati sauntered more into the room and sat himself down on the edge of the bed, discretely putting a halting hand up to his right before entering. "I hope this means you are feeling like yourself again."

"As much as I'm capable of, anyway," the boy sighed, still sounding a touch sarcastic but definitely sounding less irritable than before.

Vati looked to the floor and cleared his throat loudly, drowning out nearly every other sound, to get the boy's full attention. It wasn't that Rod was in trouble, really, but Vati understood the commanding effect of his voice on his children.

The abrupt interruption inspired the boy to actually look at his father and instill a bit of guilt in behaving so rudely toward his company. When Vati opened up to speak, he sounded somewhat guilty and forewarning. "Roddli... I have not been completely honest with you."

Rod's brow perked up slightly, out of newfound worry and suspicion.

"In what way?" the boy sat up slowly.

Vati peered up at him with a mournful twinkle in his greyish-blue eyes. "I'm afraid there is more excitement in this house than just your homecoming."

"Oh, is there," Rod stated back, unsure of where this conversation was going. 

Vati sheepishly scratched the back of his neck as he stood again to pace a little, moving back and forth from the door.

"I should have mentioned this to you earlier. Julia is arriving in Salzburg from Berlin early this year. She will be staying with us for a few days."

"Oh, Julchen's coming?" the furrow in Rod's brow relaxed slightly at the mention of the news, but he did appear to be slightly worried by the news. Vati wasn't sure if this change was out of relief or possible excitement - either one was good to notice.

"How soon will she be here?" 

Vati stopped by the door and sheepishly looked to the floor, scratching his head and starting to smile as he spoke. "Ah, that's the other thing..."

Within an instant, Rod heard quick, thumping footsteps from the end of the hall - a familiar run he hadn't heard in a while. Soon Rod was faced with the awesome sight of his former foster sister, blocking the doorway with a wide stance and grin and staring at him with excitable, fiery eyes - the moment before the pounce.

"UMARME MICH, BROHA!" 

Rod's first instinct was to try to brace and back away, but once he understood she was charging him while he was sitting up on his bed all he could hope was that she wasn't moving forcefully enough to knock them both to the floor. He gasped out a "Scheiße!" through the wind being knocked out of him once he felt the hard impact of the excitable East German girl.

Clutching the bed frame before Julchen had him locked in a vice-like hug, Rod looked up to Vati for assistence to see him smiling down at the two reuniting, even if Rod was basically being crushed.

Once Julia heard him whimper for air, she released him back on the bed.

Her eyes suddenly grew wide as she watched him catch his breath. "YOU STEPPED OUTSIDE!"

Flinching and covering his ears at his rambunctious counterpart, he aggrivatedly shouted back, "AND NOW I'M INSIDE!"

Julia lowered her voice to a normal volume and smirked. "That doesn't sound like an inside voice to me, Specs," she teased and ruffled his hair - something no one else was allowed to do. Really, in Rod's mind, no one was _ever_ allowed to muss his hair, but, of course, that never stopped his siblings.

His response was to try whacking her off of him and off of the bed with his pillow.

"Hör auf," he whined, trying his hardest not to smile.

Rod failed, of course - Vati noticed, and he took a final look at the two catching up before he gave them their privacy.

"Oh come on!" she rolled her head back and groaned. "I thought you'd be happier to see me than that! You're the first one who gets to see me - that's pretty damn special! You didn't even hug me back!"

"Well, I can't do that now, can I? After you've practically broken my arms in your own! Haven't you learned by now that I'm fragile?" He joking accused her, flopping down to lay on his bed again - this time, like a spoiled prince.

Julchen rolled her eyes at the diva. "Still the drama queen of the house, I see. You're not that fragile - I'm just that awesome. Get your facts straight, Roddli!" And she gave him a light punch to the shoulder for extra measure, wondering if he had tanned enough that the bruise would be harder to notice.

Rod reflexively tended to his wound, but not before making a quiet show of how much it hurt.

"You gonna hug me and get your revenge or what, Specs?"

Rod sat up begrudingly and sighed sharply, slumping his shoulders, "I suppose, if I must, even though you know I never really will return it in kind."

And with that Rod leaned over to give his foster sister a squeeze she could be content with (or, at least, one she would have to be content with).

"Mit Sicherheit, du wirst nicht," Julchen chuckled, before squeezing back gently. "It's good to see you, Rod. Did you miss me?"

"As much as I'm capable of missing you," Rod grumbled, his head still in her shoulder.

"So, what's your problem?" Julchen asked, pushing him away to get a good look at that extra sour face he had on. "What's got you Beethoven-level moody?"

The sour face was peering back at her skeptically through those glasses. "That's a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?" As far as Rod remembered, he wasn't throwing hot food at servers or hitting choir boys. Then again, he was a few steps away from ignoring his personal hygiene while he worked.

"You're not one to talk, drama queen," Julchen snickered. "Seriously. You're looking like total shit, even with those little touch ups."  _Blunt, as always. Classic Julchen_. Despite being offended by her implication, it was clear Rod was aware of what she meant by the way he rolled his eyes and slumped back down on the bed to sulk.

Julchen nudged him gently this time. "Just talk to me, bro."

Rod rolled back over to face her and spoke almost in a whine: "I've been home from Seville for a couple of weeks and am readjusting to the altitude. Naturally I'm going to be a little depressed upon having to leave."

Julchen sat up straighter at that admonition and peered down somewhat astonished at his answer. "Huh, I'm surprised, Roddy. I thought you'd lose your shit over being back home, in the cool air and the rain again."

A snicker left her as she continued and leaned down a little more, even just to get to annoy her foster brother like old times. "Hell, I didn't actually think you'd be able to handle going abroad by yourself, you precious thing, you-"

Rod glared at her over his shoulder before cutting her off: "If you dare pinch my cheeks, I swear to God, Julchen, I will-"

"Calm down," Julchen shot back, her half smile betraying the sternness in her tone. "I'm trying to pay you your annual compliment to get it out of the way. I was saying that you did it - here you are! You survived!"

"Alright. Fine," he nodded and sat up reluctantly, "Yes, I survived... but did I  _live_?" the little prince sighed, nearly drowning his face into his pillow.

Julchen frowned a little at his tone. She wasn't sure if he was just being his usual dramatic self or if he was actually at risk of crying. Vati wasn't kidding when he said Rod was moodier than normal, and it wasn't as entertaining as she thought it'd be. Awesome older (well, by a few months, anyway) sister Julchen was ready to work through her bratty foster brother's emotional constipation.

"I mean, you tell me, Specs. I'm not a mind reader, and you're not really an old man, as much as you might think you are. You haven't written enough compositions or have drunken enough alcohol or fucked enough people in your life to be this bitter and brooding of a musician yet. What do you have to regret?"

"The fact that I can't be direct when it matters," he muttered, his face escaping from the side of the pillow.

Julchen made a puzzled face down at Rod.  _What a paradox,_  she thought sarcastically,  _he can admit to his problem but still be as vague as humanly possible while doing it. Damn right he isn't direct_.

"What did you need to be direct for?" She asked, massaging her temples to prepare for the work ahead of her.

Rod glanced over at his desk, looking at the drawer he abruptly shut before letting Vati into his room to see if any of his letters were peeking out. How many times had he sat down attempting to write to that celestial Spanish lady? How many times had he been swept away by his feelings and ruined something that was supposed to be simple? How many times had he feared that whatever he wrote to her, she would never end up responding to him or that he'd come off creepy? He wondered that if he wrote too little it would seem like he wouldn't care, and if he wrote too much it would overwhelm and frighten her from reaching out again. He didn't even know if it mattered by this point. He'd already lost track of the days - maybe she had already left to wherever she was off to studying that year.

Maybe he was already too late.

"Earth to Rod! Hallo!" she clapped close to his ear, causing him to jolt back up and sputter out an unsure "Jo?".

"I said what did you need to be direct for? What, did you catch feelings for some guy you met over there?"

The bitter laugh that escaped Rod's nose and his pained smile said enough. He was caught, and he was definitely not at all happy about it, which was evidenced by him slumping back down and hiding his blush under his pillow again.

Julchen's eyes widened across her face and a mischievous smile formed and snarled as she ripped the pillow off of his head and out of his hands.

"Oh, no you don't! You're not getting away that easy! We're talking about this!"

Rod glowered up at Julchen, his nostrils flaring slightly, before he calmed himself and spoke as darkly and lowly as he could (which, considering his voice still sounded pubescent, wasn't very much of either to Julchen).

"You will say nothing about this to anyone, especially not anyone in this household. Do you understand?"

"Psh!" Julchen rolled her eyes and walked over to the door, ensuring it was closed before they continued. "You really think I'd out you to your family? Look, I knew you thought I could be cruel, but I didn't think you thought _that_ badly of me."

Rod turned to his side and placed a hand on his hip, raising his brow slightly on his otherwise stoic face. "Would you actually believe it's not about that?"

With that admonition, Julchen cocked her head to the side curiously and crossed her arms, seating herself on the edge of the bed. Rod briefly glanced down and lowered his voice a little more before flashing concern from his dark blue eyes, "However, I will thank you to continue to keep quiet about that."

"Hey, don't worry," Julchen nudged him reassuringly and flashed him a kind smirk, "Until you give me the word, I'm not talking. But hoooooly shit, I am good!" she gloated, "I read you right on the first try!"

He responded smugly but still as sheepish as ever, the blush glowing off of his cheeks, "You're not as good as you think ... it was a woman this time. And before you even start, I'm just as surprized as you are that I even had a chance with one. Especially with one like her."

"Here we go!" Julchen wrang her hands and snickered. "Hang on - I'll need to get some Schokobananen for this!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to read more about Roderich and Julia's foster sibling relationship, I've been writing a prequel to this story called Odds and Ends, which explores their adolescence in the mid 1980s:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/16584620/chapters/38865758


	15. The Sun Arrives in Salzburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late August, 1991, Salzburg, Austria  
> Saturday afternoon, the weekend before fall semester starts.
> 
> Carmen has arrived in Salzburg, freshly moved into her room, and wants to explore. While she's lost, she bumps into Roderich, who is with a woman who doesn't know about her yet.

There were many things about traveling abroad that Carmen did not think would have affected her - the biggest thing being the change in altitude. She thought that because she was in good health that living at a new height wouldn't be as harsh as it could have been. However, she had been taking several rest stops between getting from different points and from moving her things into the dorms. She debated taking a nap after she was fully moved into her room for the year, but she didn't want to ruin her sleep schedule before classes would start, even if she had a few days before her year truly began.

Carmen was wandering the main streets, pulling her sweater a little closer to herself, and doing her best to read the signs around her. She didn't want to admit to feeling like a lost kitten, so she did her best to walk with confidence, but the reality was that she was lost in a new city with a limited understanding of German to be able to translate the dialect. She took a seat on a bench in the town square and looked around at the busy marketplace.

Before she thought to give up on exploring for the time being, she thought she saw someone familiar by a vegetable stand.

Following behind a dignified looking older woman inspecting the produce was a gangly young man with dark, messy, wavy hair blowing about in the mountain breeze. His brooding expression and pronounced nose were hidden under a pair of angular glasses. His slow, ambling walk and the slight stoop in his shoulders were unmistakeable - it was Roderich!

A sudden wave of relief came across her, and she formulated a plan to find her way over to him. Seeing the pair moving towards the other food stands, Carmen snuck her way behind the pair when they weren't paying attention. Once she was sure to be right behind him, she cleared her throat and reached up on her toes to tap his shoulder.

"Excuse me, Sir," she began coyly, "Do I know you from somewhere?" Rod knew he had heard that voice before, but he never expected to be graced by the beauty of its melody again, or to have it tap into him so powerfully.

Once he turned to meet its source, he could barely control his volume or shock. The introspective young man was brought back into the world instantly, to the older woman's surprize.

"Carmen!" he shouted in disbelief, the violet shimers in his eyes exploding like fireworks at the sight of her. "You're here!"

"I am!" she shouted right back through her beaming smile.

"Oh my goodness!" he laughed jovially and, without thinking, he hugged her and devolved into a babbling mess of questions upon pulling back to face her, still cradling her forearms.

"How are you? How did you get here? What are you doing here?"

The dignified older woman peered curiously over her spectacles and rested her hand on Roderich's shoulder to get his attention.

"Roddli," she spoke with a polite sternness to bring him back to Earth, "Wer ist dieser Dame?"

Upon registering the question and realizing that he never once mentioned Carmen to any of his blood relatives, Rod let go of Carmen and faced the older woman to explain himself, letting the embarrassment of his unrestrained response sink in.

"Oh, entschuldigung, Mutti. Das ist Carmen. Sie ist eine Freundin von mir, die ich im Sommer in Sevilla kennen gelernt habe."

He then turned back to Carmen and proudly presented his mother, who looked at this pretty young lady inquisitively. "Carmen, this is my mother."

"Grüß Gott, Carmen," Mutti extended her hand with a soft smile. The warmth of her aged alto voice somehow would show through even in the simplest exchanges, although Carmen was surprized at how differently she sounded from her son. Upon getting a better look at Roderich's mother, Carmen could notice how much he really took after her: she did indeed have the same violet eyes of one Elizabeth Taylor, and it seemed clear to Carmen that Roderich inherited her gaunt frame.

Carmen gladly reached for those slender hands with both of her own, absorbing Mutti with those green eyes and greeting her with the cheek kisses from before, making Rod worry that she would offend his mother or, worse, that his mother would get the wrong idea about them.

Thankfully, Mutti didn't seem terribly phased by the cheek kisses, but judging by the mischievous grin ghosting her lips, it seemed Mutti already had the wrong idea.

Carmen attempted to downplay her lisp as she spoke, but the language worked against her. Rod had to bite his lip down to not step out of line and say anything about her language-speaking skills, but at least now he understood her struggle from when they first met about getting over his accent. God, she sounded cute!

"Grüß Gott, Frau Edelstein! Ich kenne nur ein bisschen Deutsch. Sprechen Sie Spanisch oder vielleicht Englisch?"

"I know more English than I do Spanish, unfortunately. A shame, really. It truly is such a beautiful language," Mutti sighed, "but that's what happens when you live in a formerly occupied territory."

"Well, it's not too bad," Carmen shrugged with a smile. "At least we have a little English in common, so we can still talk while I'm here."

"Which reminds me," Rod interjected, "Carmen, what are you doing here?"

"Do you remember when I said I would be going abroad for a year?"

"Yes?"

"Well, here I am! I'll be taking dance classes at Chrysostomus Conservatory and interning at a studio here in Salzburg!"

Roderich was probably the least boisterous out of all of Mutti's sons while sober, and yet here he was, echoing Hans and Bernard in his jaunty laughter at such news. "That's my Uni!" Rod exclaimed.

Carmen's excitement quickly switched into dumbfoundedness: "You're kidding me."

Rod chuckled, a tear or two welling in his eye from the overwhelming shock and from the smile threatening to break his face in two.

"I'm not! You didn't know?"

The surprised Spanish lady shook her head quickly before responding: "I had no clue!"

"Oh, this is wonderful! To think - I'll actually be able to show  _you_  around, for once!" he teased - something Mutti was not at all used to seeing from her little stick-in-the-mud.

Rod's smile spread wide across his face and he hugged her all over again, not realizing he'd picked her up and twirled her as he did it, "Oh, mein Gott, it is so good to see you again!"

With the squeeze, Carmen giggled out of the pleasant shock of seeing him this enthused. Mutti tried to downplay her disbelief - who was this boy and what had he done with her moody child?

"This is the best surprize I could have had all day!" she exclaimed. The smile she seemed to wear permanently faltered a bit and she looked down as she continued, slightly more exasperated and possibly upset - something Rod still wasn't used to seeing from her. "You wouldn't believe the morning I've had! I was starting to worry I wouldn't be able to find my way around or make any friends here."

"Psh! What, a social butterfly like you not make any friends? Ridiculous!" he responded dismissively, waving his hand to push the thought away. "What do you think, Mutti?" The mischievous smile on Mutti's lips only grew wider as she saw Roderich present this girl with his arm still wrapped around her shoulder.

As quiet and complicated as he claimed to be, Mutti could see his transparencies easily.

"Unmöglich. Completely impossible." Mutti stated plainly, with the same flair in her own dismissive wave before reaching for Carmen's hands again. "My dear, you are much too charming. If Roddli is this happy to see you again, that says more than enough!"

The smile lit right back up on Carmen's face, while the smile on Rod's grew more nervous upon noting Mutti's grin.

"Wow, you both really know how to make a stranger feel welcome!" Carmen was glowing at her own luck.

Mutti shook her head as she continued, her hospitality both unnerving and pleasantly surprising to her son. "But you aren't a stranger, my dear. In fact, if you would ever like to have an authentic home-cooked Salzburger meal, you are more than welcome to join us for dinner sometime."

Mutti then pulled out a pen and marked Carmen's map and gave the spot a few stern taps with her finger. "You can find us here. I'm sure our family would adore you!"

Carmen's eyes lit up again, and she could not control herself from hugging her gracious host. "Really? Thank you, Frau Edelstein! That's very sweet of you!"

Rod's stance grew very stiff upon seeing Carmen reach for his mother again. Thankfully, Mutti didn't seem to mind, and she laughed gently at the girl's graciousness.

"Oh, what kind of mother would I be to not host a friend of my child?" Mutti said with a  matter-of-fact tone that stopped Rod from wondering if she was only being polite.

"I hope the rest of the family is as sweet as the both of you! I can't wait to meet them! I'm so excited to be here!- Oh!" Carmen stopped herself and realized what Rod had known for what felt like an eternity, "I hope I'm not being too out of line in any way."

"You can never have too much of a good thing!" Mutti beamed at Carmen sweetly. "Your excitement is simply endearing! I can see why Roddli enjoys your company so much!" she gestured to her son, who was now attempting to hide the blush dusting his cheeks.

"Naturlich," Rod attested. "Well, I'm sure you're quite busy. I don't want us to get in the way of anything you need to do." As thrilled as he was to see Carmen again, he didn't like the way Mutti was observing the two of them during this entire situation. He'd already behaved so uncoothly in front of her - he didn't want to end up adding more fodder to that fire.

"Oh, I'm all set now," Carmen assured them, "I've just been exploring. But if  _you_ have things you need to do, I don't want to impose."

"Well," Rod deflected, "we were grocery shopping for the week, and, you see, the market isn't open on Sundays-"

"Oh, you are more than welcome to join us, my dear!" Mutti interrupted her son dramatically. "It always helps to have an extra pair of hands to carry things, or even just another good person to talk to. It's not a problem at all! After we're done, would you like us to show you around? Who else would be better guides for you here than two lifelong residents?"

"Would you really want to?"

"Only if Roddli is alright with it." Mutti said, glancing up at Roderich with that knowing grin that would haunt him in his nightmares.

His mother really could be a handful in these situations, although Rod had rarely been in them compared to his older brothers.

He did his level best to be discrete about his embarrassment and give into his enthusiasm at having Carmen around daily again. "Of course! Why wouldn't I be?"

Mutti clapped her hands, like the little mastermind she could be. "It is settled! Come along, Carmen! You have so much to see!"

Before Mutti turned around to start the tour, Carmen gently put a hand on her shoulder to hold her still. "If you will excuse me for just a minute - I need to call my roommate and let them know where I am," she explained, while looking around. "I hope I'm not too far from a payphone."

Mutti then nodded and reached into her side pocket, as if the gesture were nothing. Rod knew better - Mutti was the one who taught him to be frugal. "Here, dear. I have a little pocket change. There's one right on the corner there."

"Thank you again! You really are such a sweet woman! I can see where Roddy gets it from!" Carmen offered a courteous smile before making her way down the street to the payphone. Rod and Mutti were now alone. Rod was apparently wrong when he thought this situation couldn't possibly get any more uncomfortable.

"Sie ist Tänzerin." Mutti simpered, "Interessant. Also du hast jemand in Sevilla getroffen und hast das mir nit erzählt?"

"Mutti," Rod whined, "bitte sei nit seltsam darüber. Sie ist lei ein Freundin."

Mutti started to take on a more reprimanding tone, unsure of what was wrong with her son. The fact that he said nothing about her to Mutti is maybe what put her off, but it was probably also that her youngest was much too hessitant on these sorts of things. "Sie ist so charmant, Bist du sicher, dass sie lei  _ein_ Freundin ist? Wie hast du das Mädchen jemals gefunden, Roddli?"

"Mutti, bitte nit hiaza," Rod tried to quiet his mother. "I was ned, wie gut ihr Deitsch ist."

* * *

 

Once the tour had concluded, Rod and Mutti accompanied Carmen back to her dorm room. However, Carmen encountered a problem - that being the stairs up to her room. She had three flights, which normally would not have been a big deal; however, the higher altitude was admittedly making her dizzy.

Rod noticed the way she peered up at the stairwell and the look of determination she had with her deep inhale. He noticed her teeter a little as they were walking before, and so he was trying to be more vigilant of her state of health, remembering how difficult it was for him to transition to the lower altitude in Seville. If he was struggling a month ago to not faint, he could barely imagine the toll the higher altitude was taking on her, regardless of how tough he knew she was.

"Do you want me to walk with you up the stairs?" Rod offered. "You're a little off-balance. I want to be sure you'll make it."

She tried to laugh it off, but the airiness in her voice gave it all away. "I'm fine," she uttered through a gasping laugh.

Either the woman was delirious or exhausted, or both. Neither would have surprized him.

Even if the stairwell did have a rail, he didn't want to think about her fainting halfway up the stairs. "No, you're clearly not. Please, let me walk with you."

Carmen sighed like a deflated balloon in bitter defeat.

She lifted her head to look back up at him with a tight-pressed smile while the rest of her remained deflated. "Fine, you can walk with me. Just be sure that you can keep up."

Roderich walked respectfully beside and behind her by two steps, to adjust for his height, as Carmen ascended the stairwell. She was able to make it fine through the first flight, but she had to stop and catch herself as she attempted the second. Roderich noticed her faltering and tried to check in gently by calling her name and asking if she was alright, to which she would nod.

Noticing a particularly bad wave of faltering, Roderich swooped under her arm to give her better leverage so she could make her way upstairs. With this new adjustment, Carmen made it halfway up the second flight without any major complications.

Rod unraveled himself from under her once they had reached the landing of the stairwell and crouched down to reposition himself when they were set to start again.

When she started on the third flight, however, her dizziness caught up with her and she threatened to fall backwards.

Reflexively, Roderich bent down lower to catch Carmen before she could possibly fall, ensuring that one arm had decent support on her back and the other was latched under her knees.

"Okay, this isn't working," he said, his voice straining at the discomfort of the position. "Up you go," he grunted as he straightened his posture and shifted her weight more comfortably on him to ascend the final flight of stairs.

Carmen was going to interject, worried for his own physical safety, but let the thought go once she realized he was ascending the stairwell without a serious issue. Instinctively, Carmen latched onto his neck and did her best not to move around too much. Part of her had given into the feeling of being physically dazed, but the other part of her was in shock from fully understanding what was happening.

She never had the impression that Roderich was physically capable of much outside of playing music and, until recently, moderate dancing, and yet here he was carrying her up a flight of stairs with surprising understanding of how to properly support her weight. Carmen was so engrossed in her confusion that she barely noticed they had reached her floor.

Roderich turned around to back into the door leading to her hallway to open it, taking extra care not to risk bumping Carmen's head by shifting her up a little more and gently guiding her head onto his shoulder.

"Which room is yours?" he huffed once they had made it through the door, doing his best to downplay his panting. Carmen mentally understood there was nothing sensual about his tone and he was probably getting tired, but the edge in his voice made her feel a certain way and blush a certain way she wouldn't have felt comfortable with Roderich's mother seeing.

It took her a second to remember what their situation actually was, and it came back to her when Roddy called to her again, with more concern lacing his voice. "Carmen?"

She responded suddenly, to assure him she was still conscious and to silence her thoughts. "It's at the end of the hall, to your right."

He nodded before making his way down the hallway with her.

She lifted her head slightly to peer down at the floor before speaking, "I could probably make the rest of the walk on my own from here."

Roderich still heard a faint, airy quality in her voice, so he didn't want to risk anything. They had made it this far without her injuring herself, and he had made it through the most difficult part - he figured he could make it the rest of the way. "Na, na - you still sound lightheaded. I'll let you down once we're at your door. Is that alright?"

She sighed again, but this time it was moreso out of relief than frustration. "Okay... Gracias, Roddy."

"Of course. The altitude here is a lot to take. When I got back, would you believe even  _I_  fainted a few times? And I  _live_ here! I can barely imagine what you must be going through in adjusting."

Upon reaching her door, Rod lowered Carmen to the floor and offered his arm to her as a level place to lean once she got back on her feet again.

"Just be careful, alright? And, if you don't think it's bad enough to call an ambulance, please call me if you need any help. I'm sure Mutti wrote down our number on your map."

"Oh, she did," Carmen confirmed with a laugh through her nose as she reached for her keys.

"Why didn't you tell me you could do that?" she asked.

Rod cocked his head to the side inquisitively. "Do what?"

"The carry," she grinned, trying not to blush over it. "I didn't expect you to be able to do that. I'm just a little surprised."

Rod's eyes widened a little bit at the mention of the act and at the notice of the blush on her cheeks. Was she impressed or just winded? He quietly thanked whatever force kept Carmen from falling any earlier in the stairwell, because it was frankly miraculous he wasn't gasping for air by her door after what felt like approaching physical death.

He looked to his feet shyly before answering her: "I don't know if you know this, but portable musical equipment is not as light as you might think, and stairs are pretty common here. Also, I don't think Mutti or I mentioned anything about the bakery today."

"What bakery?"

"Exactly." Rod nodded and smiled down at her, "It's a story for another time."

Carmen smiled and hummed up at him sweetly, twirling the stray wisps of hair by her ear, "Well, then I'm glad you had to lug around that equipment as much as you did. Otherwise, I might have cracked open my head on those stairs."

She wasn't just impressed - she was clearly flirting with him - and this time he could tell! "Muchas gracias, Roddy."

"You are more than welcome." he beamed. "I'm just glad I could actually be of service to you."

"So..." Carmen continued, leaning on her door but not doing anything to open it. "I'll see you on Monday?"

Rod chuckled a little, allowing himself a little pride in this situation, before continuing in a steadier tone, now that his heart rate was back to normal. "If you are going to be by the conservatory, which I am sure you will be, then most definitely."

"Okay," she smiled, finally opening her door and entering her room, all the while holding the doorframe before making her way inside. The last thing Rod was able to see of her were her stunning, sparkling green eyes. "I'll see you then."

* * *

Rod descended the staircase to find Mutti looking up at him with that same, haunting, knowing smile that successfully spooked him on his way down.

"Was hast du da gemacht, Roddli?" she teased.

"Na, na!" the boy waved his hands to dismiss her, "Bekomme koa Ideen!"

Before they left, Mutti placed the rest of the grocery bags in his capable hands, as proven by what she had heard from the stairwell.

"Jo. Lei eine Freundin. Sicher."


	16. From Click to Clique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early September, 1991, Salzburg, Austria.  
> Late Monday afternoon, upon the first day of classes.
> 
> BFT! BFT! BFT!

 

To say Julia Maria Beilschmidt was a showoff was an understatement. This was not to say that she wasn't competant in what she did - her humble beginnings required competance from her. Laboring the way she did with little Monika could occasionally mean life or death, and she needed to be ready for anything. However, the danger thrilled her. Well, the  _explosions_  thrilled her, at the very least. Maybe not as much as the thrill of their escape (but what could top that, really?), but the experience did foster her love for pyrotechnics, stage special effects, and general flash.

This flash included a love of dance, specifically break-dancing. While the weather was still nice, Julia would sometimes practice on the outskirts of the campus grounds - far enough away to avoid disrupting classes, but not so far as to keep from gathering an audience. She could have fooled anyone into thinking she was a performance student with her enthusiasm and humor, although she would usually scoff it off. "I'm one step closer to being a god than being a performance major," she'd laugh, knowing full well stage managers played god far better.

This day was different. Julia had a new audience member she hadn't seen around before - a short girl with auburn hair who clearly was used to more sun than how she was dressed, looking like she could match the East German in dorkiness with how she watched and rocked her shoulders on the sidelines.

Carmen had spotted the crowd forming after getting out of her last period for that day -  _Reclaimed or Recovered? The Works of Degenerate Artists After WWII_. After only feeling a little dizzy throughout the day, she exited the building looking for a nearby trashcan, in case she would vomit. However, hearing the noise and music in the distance was enough to perk up her interest to follow it. To her joy, Carmen had finally found another dancer, flying through the air like a bird to the beats on the boombox.

Julia couldn't help but notice the excited Spaniard moving instead of just staring in awe.  _Cute kid,_  Julia thought.  _Freshman_. She looked over to her friend, Maryann, while taking a water break. The Parisian, who was leaning against the walls of one of the buildings and taking elegant drags from a cigarette, was one of the most well connected people on campus, and Julia figured if anyone had any intel about this kid, it'd be her. After peering over her sunglasses discretely, the blonde scanned the little imp (while silently judging her ensemble - it was much too early for autumn), who looked like she was getting ready to jump into more serious dancing. With a slight twich of her mouth into a small scowl, glance of her crystal-like eyes, and tilt of her head, Maryann brought Julia's attention back to the newcomer entering the dance circle upon the onset of a new song.

With a crack of her neck, Julia ran back into the circle to reign in her crowd. However, Julia didn't expect to be mesmerized by the fastest moving and clicking feet she had ever seen. The sweet little thing shuffling on her feet a few minutes earlier was moving with some kind of flair Julia hadn't seen before, and slowly picking up on some of her footwork, all the while looking over at Julia with a cocky smile.  _Verdammt!_  Julia swore to herself as she kept up her pace,  _She's styling all over me!_  She had to deflect!

While the crowd around the pair was occupied trying to keep up with those feet, Julia only took a brief moment's note of it before trying to clear her own space again to dramatically drop and flare. Julia was too involved in her floorwork to see the impish freshman's reaction, but she heard the crowd hollering for her louder than those clicking feet - that was what mattered more. When she stopped spinning and paused to hold herself up in a freeze, the world seemed upside-down in more ways than one. The girl she thought she was battle-dancing with was cheering the loudest for her.

Upon the seemingly thunderous applause the pair received, Julia unraveled herself from the freeze and threw herself up to stand, meeting Carmen beside her and raising both of their hands to the sky in triumph. The scene was so lively that even Maryann put out her light and joined in on the excitement.

"Mensch!" Julia conceded with a breathy laugh, her voice ranging higher than usual, "Für eine Sekunde dachte ich, dass Sie würden Rückwärtsalto springen anfangen!"

"Was?" Carmen panted.  _Yikes!_ Julia thought. _Wrong word AND a lisp? Definitely a newcomer!_

Julia's red eyes widened again with the realization and she hoped she could break the language barrier better than how she handled it with Maryann when they were freshman. "Oh, ah.. Sprechen Sie Deutsch, Freundin?" Julia asked, not trying to sound too judgemental.

"Ah..." the stranger spoke, clearly trying to worm her way out of lisping as she went. It seemed to be the first hint of self-consciousness from the stranger Julia could see. "nicht so viel .... um.. Sprechen Sie Spanisch oder vielleicht Englisch?"

Julia sighed loudly in relief before continuing on, giving Carmen a small slap on the back. "Holy shit, you're lucky. If it makes you feel better, no one else here can actually speak German, either, so you're among friends," she snickered, ready to fight anyone who would say otherwise. "I said, I thought for a second you were going to start picking up on all of these flips, too."

"Oh!" the stranger laughed, fanning herself a little and returning the back slap - the force of which Julia wasn't ready for. "Maybe one day, when I get used to the altitude here, I'll try flying like that! It looks like so much fun! ¡Dios mío! You are amazing! Spectacular! Stupendous!"

Upon registering the enthused compliments, Julia popped the collar on her shirt and shrugged them off. "Psh! Oh, go on, go on!"

"She means it," a voice came from behind Carmen that was as dainty as Julia's was boisterous. Maryann was suddenly beside the stranger like an older sister finding her younger. The coldness of those icy blue eyes melted when they rested on the mysterious dancer. "You'll find that Julia can never get enough compliments, but she usually stops fishing for them when you call her awesome."

"Well, she is!" the stranger affirmed, gesturing rapidly to the awesome one. "Look at her!" Julia went back to hamming up the applause in her own cocky fashion. Maryann rolled her eyes to follow, as if one action could not possibly exist without the other.

"Oh, mon chéri," the Parisian started, gesturing with her painted nails towards Julia, "I have seen this girl dancing for years. The novelty? Eh.. she wears from time to time." Maryann turned back to the stranger, resting a hand gently on the girl's shoulders as if she were to explain a vision. "What I have  _not_  seen is  _your_  kind of dancing. So many changing motions and moods - it is like watching a painting come to life and tear away from the canvas, with the way your sweater sleeves drag through the breese and how your heels brave this pavement." The blonde couldn't help but gesture to Carmen's sweater, which was actually one of her papi's. He insisted she bring it with her, seeing that she didn't have many of her own.

"Well, these heels have survived cobblestones before," Carmen lightly argued back, "Then again, this sweater is the only one I have right now. I didn't expect it to be this cold-"

"Say no more!" Maryann helds her hands up, and walked with her arm around Carmen's shoulder to lead her to some other place. "You are coming with me to find something more suitable. You won't be walking around here in that ratty thing anymore this semester - I won't allow it!"

Julia scrambled for her boombox and bolted in front of the pair. This was still a feat she didn't realise was so incredible - the height of Maryann's heals should have made her much easier to catch up with. This kid didn't have to be strongarmed into one of Maryann's schemes. Besides - a sweater like that looked sentimental to Julia. The East German blocked their path and convinced Maryann to stop, much to Carmen's secret delight. If she moved any faster at that moment, she might trip.

"Don't mind Maryann." Julia soothed as best she could, "She's... artsy. And a little pretentious about appearances."

"I would like to think of it as being helpful," the blonde argued back, giving Julia side-eye. Despite her own comments, Maryann caught Julia's message, and she turned back to Carmen, with a pleading look in her eyes. "Please excuse me, if I sound rude. I know we can both be a bit much for some people-"

"A bit much of what?" Carmen cocked her head to the side. Her emerald eyes seeping with sincere confusion. Maryann closed her eyes and quietly asked whatever force was out there to bless this sweet child.

Julia took the comment with a nod and wide grin. "What did you say your name was?"

"Oh! I didn't!" the newcomer laughed. "It's Carmen! Carmen Fernández Carriedo!" At the mention of that name, a small, tugging thought was clouded in Julia's mind about how she might have been experiencing some deja vu. For the time being, she chose to ignore it as she picked up on Maryann's response, rolling her eyes.

"Ooo! Your name sounds like poetry!" the Parisian cheered, while turning to directly face Carmen. "It's almost as pretty as mine!" Maryann leaned in to kiss Carmen's cheeks. Between each kiss, the Parisian uttered each word like a sentence, "Maryann. Bonnefoy. Enchanté."

Carmen bounced with excitement, clearly oblivious to Maryann's self-absorption. "That's French!"

Maryann laughed somewhat awkwardly at Carmen's outburst. "Oui. Parlez-vous français?"

"Well, no," Carmen frowned with a small pout, "but I would love to learn!"

"Huh," Julia peeped as the trio kept walking towards the dormatories, "Well, if you're gonna be living in Salzburg, you should maybe focus on learning your German first. Someone living here has to."

"Non, non! Tut tut tut!" Maryann chided Julia. "You keep saying they do not speak proper German here, so what is the hurry?" While Maryann had the most friendly tone of voice, Julia saw in her eyes that she had a plan in guiding them both wherever. Probably a clothing patch-up session for her. That, or aesthetic edits of the newfound tears in her jeans. "We can practice your French while I make sure you both look presentable."

"You see, I could just get the rest of my things from the Edelstein Haus and have Roddy patch this up while I'm there."

"Who?" Carmen turned her head suddenly towards the East German. Her eyes were noticeably brighter than before, to Julia's confusion.

"Oh, Roddy?" Julia questioned her back, puzzled by Carmen's reaction. "He's just my brother. Very good with patchwork."

"It explains why all of his clothes are out of style," Maryann exhaled the side comment like a quiet melody before continuing to her regular volume. "What I'm saying is, yes, you  _could_ get your brother to fix up your clothes, but consider this - we are here now, and I need to break in my new tools, and I need to loan my new little sister some suitable clothing, which we won't find in that house."

* * *

After bonding for a while in Julia and Maryann's room, the trio went back out on the campus to grab dinner. Carmen admittedly wasn't very hungry - it was still early for her at 19:00. However, Maryann assured her she could just sit and look pretty in the dining hall and maybe store some bread in her new bag, if she felt she couldn't eat just yet.

While Maryann touched up Carmen's makeup, offered her a sweater from last year, threw her other one in a fabric pile, and stitched at Julia's jeans, Carmen regaled the pair with the stories of her life in Seville. As Julia absentmindedly opened up a package of Schokobananen to share with the group, she realized what that deja vu feeling from earlier was about - this was the girl her brother was mourning for the past month! That was why she jumped at his name! Holy shit, did he know how to pick 'em! Had he seen her yet? Did he know she was here? If he did, why the hell didn't he say anything?

When they entered the dining hall, Julia saw Roderich in his usual spot, quietly picking at his food. Formulating a plan on the spot, Julia gestured toward Maryann to take Carmen through the dining hall to fill up her plate, only making it clear that Julia had other business to attend to at that moment. When the pair wandered off, Julia headed straight for her brother. Roderich had grown used to the way she crashed into the table, but he would still jump slightly, to Julia's amusement. Beyond that, all he could muster doing was to look up at her somewhat irritably, clearly tired.

"Do you mind?" Rod groaned over to her. "I'd like to keep some of my food on my plate, for once."

She instantly plopped her bag over the shoulder of the chair and started picking away at some of the fallen food. She spoke between bites. "Quit whining. We're sharing a table tonight. Besides, you need to meet my new best friend."

With a role of his eyes and an irritated stare, he spoke with a biting sass. "Is your new best friend going to steal my food as well?"

"Well, if she does," Julia munched, "you're going to let her, but I doubt it. You see, they don't have dinner this early in  _Seville_ , and  _Carmen's_  still getting used to how things are here," Julia responded, dawning the widest shit-eating grin she could. Rod's eyes widened at the mention of the celestial name, and he nearly choked on sipping his water. Once she was sure he wasn't dying, she squinted her eyes at him suspiciously.

"You knew," Julia lightly punched his shoulder. "You asshole! Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't know she'd be here!" he bickered back, rubbing the sore spot on his arm. This was one of those hits that would leave a bruise. "I only found out about it this weekend, Julchen! How was I supposed to tell you anything?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. You seem cranky." Julia sassed him right back. "Do you want us to find another table?"

"Ye- I mean, no! I mean-" With a sharp sigh through his nose, Roderich dropped his silverware for a moment and rested his head in his hands. This was not how he wanted to see Carmen again. Then again, it might have been to his advantage that she become part of his friend group, even though he wasn't entirely sure how he was still in this friend group in the first place.

"I'm gonna assume that's a yes." Julia said, finalizing the idea by loudly munching on a stray carrot. "Toll! I'm gonna go grab some food for myself. Yours is boring." The East German rose from the chair and turned towards the food line, but not before giving her brother a few pats on the back. "By the way, she's gonna be here in a minute. Look sharp, loverboy!"

As she made her way towards Maryann and Carmen, Julia snickered to herself over this entire plan. While Maryann was inspecting the choices on the bread plate, Julia pulled Carmen to the side and pointed to Rod's table.

"Hey, we're sitting over there tonight. My brother's here, and I didn't want the poor kid eating by himself." Noticing the twinkle in Carmen's eyes and the warm smile gracing her lips, Julia gave her a few pats on the back to guide her forward. "You should go say 'Hi', if you're not getting any food yet." Carmen nodded and moved quickly toward the table, teetering a little as she left. Julia briefly considered walking with her, in case the "altitude" was too much for her, but brushed it off as she watched her go. The inevitable crash might be amusing.

After a few seconds, Julia leaned over to Maryann, speaking over her shoulder and swallowing her smile. "Hey, French Fry, you wanna see something funny?"

Maryann turned her head to her with a small scowl and raised brow. She suddenly noticed her new little sister had left her side, and worry set into her voice as she turned to check all of her sides to be sure the poor thing hadn't wandered off somewhere. "Where's Carmen?"

Julia only nodded her head with her arms crossed, gesturing over to their table for that night. Maryann let out a horrified, melodramatic gasp and clutched her chest at the sight of Roderich and Carmen unraveling from some sort of embrace, laughing off whatever crash Carmen clearly had, sitting beside each other, and eating off of the same plate like lovebirds communing in a birdbath. Maryann sputtered hysterically and reached a hand out, as if she could stop what was already happening: "Quelle!... Quelle!... Que fait-elle?" Julia had to bite her hand to keep herself from busting up with laughter. This year was going to be... interesting, to say the least.


	17. A Quartet At Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mid September, 1991, Salzburg, Austria.  
> Tuesday afternoon.
> 
> Julia and Maryann are taking Carmen under their wing and giving her more opportunities to feel at home outside of work and school, and this means potentially taking her to the first theatre party of the year.

While it was still early yet in the semester, the unlikely quartet would have meals together often. The table chatter would take on a familiar pattern, mostly involving bitching about coursework and lighthearted pranks at the expense and exasperation of one easily agitated and spaztic Austrian.

Today all Rod had to do was hear the stifled snickers from Maryann and Carmen as he was ready to take a bite of the slice of cake he had idiotically left unattended before gathering the rest of his lunch and coffee. Pausing his fork mid-air at the noise and glaring around the table at two present instigators, he raised an eyebrow at them as he expressed his judgements.

"You two really are hopeless, you know that? Julchen can at least keep a straight face when she does these kinds of things to me."

"Mhmm?" Maryann stifled a laugh through her nose while looking over at Carmen, who was grinning from ear to ear.

Rod rolled his eyes -  _children. Nearly every person in my life is a child. All of them. Good grief_.

For a brief moment, Rod thought to play their game. As much as he didn't want to admit to his own immaturity, he could indulge it every once in a while. His first target was the easier one. He pushed his dessert plate over to Carmen as he said, "I'm sorry. Where are my manners? I forgot to share." Sure,  _sharing_  is what he would call it. It wasn't as if she picked from his plate without his expressed permission, of course. Or, at least, it wasn't as if he wouldn't let her pick from his plate, if not from his own volition than from Julia's.

Carmen eyed the cake warily and looked back to Rod with an abrupt, nervous smile. Rod looked over at her in smug anticipation, with his head in his hand, gesturing towards the dessert with his fork. "Well, aren't you going to take some? By this point I would be insulted, if you didn't."

She sighed after a moment of staring back between the cake and Rod. If she said no, he wouldn't eat it. She reluctantly grabbed her fork and looked back up at the Austrian with an aire of determination as she scooped its prongs into the spongey dessert and delicately took her first bite. Her reaction was completely unscripted, as her eyes widened at its nuanced sweetness. The yummy sounds escaping her lips also seemed hard to fake. In fact, they made every other action feel scripted. Smacking her lips a little, she turned to Rod and pointed at the slice. "¡Oh, Dios mío! Roddy, you've gotta try this before I finish it! This is the best cake I've ever had!"

With a small, glaring pout back at her, he snatched the plate away from her and took his own fork, grumbling as he took his own bite of the cake. She wasn't hiding anything - it was admittedly an adequate cake, but clearly not from his parents' bakery. The fact she thought it was the best she had ever had was a disgrace he simply had to amend. It was much too dry. Without a second thought, Rod reached for his coffee and took a sip to be instantly met with regret.

Upon watching Rod's eyes widen at the horror of drinking salted coffee, Maryann and Carmen busted up into their own boisterous laughter.

"What's the matter?" Maryann chided, "You can tell it's not Viennese?"

"It was you, wasn't it? You did this." Rod peered over at her with tired, accusing eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Non, not this time, pet," Maryann batted her eyes innocently, and shifted to rolling her neck to look at a guilty-looking Carmen.

"Oh, please, not you," Rod whined.

Carmen simply grinned at picked at his cake again, looking disgustingly proud of herself.

Rod shook his head and looked back down at his salted coffee in slight disgust.

"She has been corrupted, mon ami," Maryann simpered, looking over at her little protégé. "She is too far gone!"

"I shouldn't be shocked. I knew she would cause trouble eventually," he gestured to Carmen with his fork. Carmen's response was to smile proudly, like the imp she truly was.

Maryann kept herself quiet upon seeing their banter. As a gossip, Maryann would enjoy witnessing tender flirtation under any other circumstance, but theirs was ... different, in a way that unsettled her.

Maryann's quiet would quickly cease. With a shrug, Rod downed the rest of his coffee relatively quickly while squinting. The pair of ladies observed him with returned disgust. After finishing the cup, Rod looked back at the two, confused and defensive. "What now?"

"Okay, now I am sure you have little taste," Maryann answered him critically, taking a sip of her water with an extended pinky. "Are you sure you and Julia aren't really related?"

Rod rolled his eyes with some exasperation. "Look, I don't drink my coffee here for the  _taste_  of it," Rod huffed. "Conducting I requires energy I don't have. This is my most convenient option."

"Well, you know," Carmen suggested teasingly, "you  _could_  also start up again with dancing lessons. Conducting sounds like a lot of upper choreography we haven't covered yet."

Upon processing her suggestion, Rod turned sharply toward her and laid his hands on her shoulders, speaking out of concern. "You need to stop," he told her, each word sounding like it's own declaration. "You make far too much work for yourself beyond what you already have. Not even counting the internship, your courseload is admittedly daunting."

"And it's also very dark and depressing and for very smart people," Carmen argued back. The intersections between the arts and recent history occured more often than she'd thought. "Rod, the dancing is what's going to keep me going. You know that, right? I can handle it. And it's not like I'll be throwing you into dance lessons like before, although I wish I had that kind of time. I promise you, for your own peace of mind, at least, this will not consume all of my free time."

"Oui, all you have to do is make sure his hands don't shake anymore," Maryann gestured to the musician, who looked back at her defensively again. "Once you stop giving him coffee, it should be enough to keep him from being so jittery."

"Excuse you," Rod leaned over the table and locked eyes with Maryann to challenge her claim, presenting his open-palmed hands like prized possessions he would defend to the grave. "Madam, you could barely, if ever, comprehend the discipline these hands have endured to never shake. Which they never do." With the way his conducting course was going, this might have been an over-exaggeration, but he certainly would not confess to it, considering his reputation.

While he maintained challenging eye-contact with Maryann, he nodded his head to Carmen. "Carmen, pick a hand and place one of yours on top of it. Tell me if you feel it shaking."

 _He couldn't be serious_ , she thought. This was the thing that he was willing to fight over, if you could call this sort of thing fighting? She knew he was proud of his musicianship skills, but  _this_ proud?  _This_  was the thing he felt he had to prove? Carmen bit her lip to keep from complaining, as she wasn't one to talk about silly pride competitions. Then again, if he were serious about this, it would be a challenge for her to keep quiet for long.

Rod glanced over at Carmen for a second and registered her studying him, but he continued on anyway without a sense of self-consciousness. "Go ahead. Don't be shy." he stated.

Carmen had to keep herself from gawking too much at this ridiculousness in front of her, " _Shy_? You're going to sit there and call  _me_  shy?" When she saw Rod still insist she place her hand on his to test their steadiness, she rolled her eyes.  _¡Dios mío!,_  she thought,  _this has got to be the stupidest confrontation I've ever seen. Maybe he and Julia really_ are _related._

Speaking of the Devil, as Carmen was about to test this theory and place her hand gingerly on one of Rod's, Julia flopped herself down next to Carmen, letting her plate make a sharp ring as it hit the table. Rod reflexively jumped and recoiled his hands, to Maryann's continued amusement at his misery.

"Yo, Clickity Click, I've got some good news for you. Listen up," Julia beckoned her. Carmen turned to face her, intrigued. Rod continued on with his meal, but kept his ears perked up. He knew if this were something really all that private, Julia would have pulled Carmen aside. Maryann already had a clue as to what this was about, so she munched coquettishly while she listened in.

"I've been talking you up around campus, and the theatre kids want to meet you." Carmen's expression was that of wonder and confusion. Rod's eyes widened slightly at the news - he wasn't really surprised by this development, but a strange feeling entered his stomach. He knew how some of those performers could be. He didn't want to think about any of them bothering her. Then again, if Julia would be around, he was sure she could keep Carmen comfortable.

Carmen was a little skeptical. Her eyes squinted slightly as she looked between the three of them. She shrugged and sighed as she continued eating her potatoes. "Well, if they're going to invite me to auditions, I know already I can't do that. I'm working."

Rod kept his eyes mostly on his plate and glanced up occasionally, trying to appear as though he wasn't eavesdropping as much. He closed his eyes as he stated, a bit more grounded this time around, "What Julchen means is, they want to have you at their next party."

At the mention of the word  _party_ Carmen's eyes widened in slight disbelief. She'd heard about theatre parties. After parties for some larger dance shows were not uncommon, but theatre parties were a whole other animal. Carmen gestured around the table with her fork, trying to absord the news. "You're saying they want  _me_ to come to a theatre party?"

"Well, sorta," Julia went on, circling the table absentmindedly. Maryann was now engaged in the conversation, albeit silently through nods. "Maryann and I want you to come. It's this Friday at 22. We'd make a hell of a trio over there, and we figured it'd be a good way for you to get your name around on campus, if you're not auditioning for shows, anyway."

Carmen glowed slightly at the fact she was meeting people and making friends so quickly, and to be invited to her first big party abroad without even meeting much of anybody? Too good to be true. "Oh, guau... Oh no, wait a minute! Trio? Isn't Roddy welcome, too?"

Before he could answer her, Maryann abruptly chimed in, "Roderich is err... he is not really interested in wild parties, non? They are not really his thing."

"She's right," Julchen added, slapping a hand on Rod's shoulder. "Don't get me wrong - he's been to a few. Those kids owed him on a lot on student-run productions for playing for them last-minute. And he's not in danger or anything - parties just aren't his scene. But," Julia added, messing with Roderich's hair, to his continued agitation, "he knows there's always a place for him, so long as I'm around and he actually wants to be there."

Rod tried to discretely shove Julia away, especially from messing with the hair he meticulously fashioned every morning. He soon let that agitation go once he heard Carmen calling over to him. Once he stopped readjusting his waves and turned around, Rod saw Carmen looking over at him excitedly and entreatingly, "Roddy, I'm sorry. I can't go to this party unless you're there." Maryann and Rod responded in visible surprise at this statement.

If Rod thought he was shocked at Carmen thinking stick-in-the-mud him would go to a theatre party generally speaking, he'd forgotten it soon when he heard her admit she wanted him to be there.

"What? Why me?" he exclaimed. Julia wasn't lying when she said theatre parties weren't really his scene. He would only attend them for reasons that no longer existed. "Carmen, you'll have Julchen and Maryann with you," he deflected, attempting to convince her otherwise with the shy charm he was becoming aware of, "You three already make quite the trio! I'm sure you'll all have a wonderful time. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

For a moment, Maryann didn't have to worry about trying to convince Carmen that inviting Rod would be a bad idea, but a twinge of panic entered her consciousness as Carmen kept pressing.

"Roderich Edelstein," the Spanish lady continued on, shoving him discretely and catching his gaze with each tiny, irritating push. Her voice sounded mock-authoritarian, and she struggled to hide her smile: sort of like how Rod fought hard to conceal his own at her admittedly charming badgering. "I'm telling you right now that you're gonna drag your butt to this party, and brag about your amazing summer to everybody, and show off your new dance moves, and be the belle of the ball, or... or so help me, I'll drag you there myself!"

Rolling his eyes and now failing to hide his smile, the boy thought it'd be wise to sass her, "Do be careful - you might break my arm with all of this twisting." Rod fluttered her hand away dismissively as he returned to eating. "Besides, that's completely out of the question. Maryann won't let anyone else be the belle of the ball."

Julchen nearly choked on her soda. Coughing it off, she leaned towards Maryann, whose side-eye could possibly risk killing Roderich. "Excusez-moi? My generosity knows no bounds, mon paysan. I know when I have been outdone - it just happens that I am the only one who can possibly do it."

"Look, Roddy, will you please just come with us and have a good time?" Carmen asked. "It wouldn't be my first big party in Salzburg without you."

Normally Rod would immediately say going to one of those parties would be out of the question; however, there was something about the almost innocent pleading in her eyes that had him feeling unsure. Not only that, but the notion that the party wouldn't be complete for her if he wasn't there had some sort of effect on him. Was his attendance a chance to showcase her pupil or another chance to keep spending time with her? As far as he had been concerned time spent with Carmen certainly wasn't time wasted.

"Well," he relented, "if this is really the  _only_  way you'll attend, I don't want to deprive you of your experience."

Upon hearing his answer, Julia gave him a contratulatory slap on the back. "Alright! It looks like I'm bringing a quartet!"

"¡Magnífico!" Carmen exclaimed, pratically glowing and nearly bouncing, "I can't wait for Friday! ¡Uf! Wait until those theatre kids see the four of us!"

"Are you kidding?" Julia egged on Carmen's excitement with her own, "After Friday, this school's not going to know what to do with the four of us styling all over everybody! Just think of all the possibilities!"

Maryann and Rod sat quietly and ate with nervous smiles, observing the scene and regretting all of the possibilities running through their heads, as none really aesthetically matched the joy coming from the rest of the table.


	18. A Quartet Parties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mid September, 1991, Salzburg, Austria.  
> Friday night.
> 
> Our quartet attends the theatre party, and while Carmen creates her own reputation on campus, Roderich is faced with reconciling his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: lots of drinking in this chapter, most of which is not fueled by smart, safe choices.  
> This is your friendly reminder to drink responsibly, kiddos, and don't do it to run from your problems/feelings.

 

One might anticipate a party at a fancy conservatory to be a bit more formal. Theatre parties at Chrysostomus, however, were private affairs usually kept under wraps from administration for all of the mischief contained in them. If their venue of choice were closer to the public on campus the group might have gotten a noise complaint; however, the old, abandoned Mahler buildings were far enough away to remain out of earshot and appeared damaged enough on the outside to not look anything but possibly spectral.

Initially, Carmen was slightly intimidated by walking amongst the dark buildings and trailed behind Roderich, just observing the apparent fire damage in the structures' moonlit silhouettes. Roderich thought it strange for Carmen to trail behind and started to wonder if this was an altitude issue all over again. Thinking of her helped to quiet the concerns plaguing his mind on the walk over - mostly, the thought of familar faces and the fear of dancing in public. Seeing this regal-looking, stubborn woman trudge forward and swallow her nerves staring up at the ghastly building prompted him to reach his hand back for her as an added comfort.

Maryann, however, moved faster and snatched Carmen's hands as she and Julia whisked her forward, tantalizing Carmen with the thought of all the fun they would have in excited whispers. The pair charmed Carmen closer up the stairs with their rascally whimsy, like they were sharing one of the best-kept secrets on campus while Roderich trailed behind, keeping an eye out for any possible followers, mostly based on the logic that it's what Julchen would do.

With a complex secret knock at the door and the utterance of a German word Carmen hadn't learned yet, Julia cracked the door open and the quartet were whisked into a building that exuded more life than it let on. The slightest crack of the door released a blast of sounds Carmen hadn't anticipated - chatter, laughter, exclamations, singing, but most of all lively music unfitting for the symphony to play. Once the group had shut the door behind them, Carmen was spellbound from the well-hidden refurbishment, the lighting, the flowers in everyone's hair, and the feel of the pumping bass vibrating from the floor.

Carmen was enraptured, to say the least, while her counterparts remained level-headed. Julia was proud to walk in with a posse behind her, even though the only person behind her putting on an air of belonging was Maryann. With Julia being the go-to special effects person and Maryann the go-to costume designer, the pair already had found their place professionally, but their own personal reputations gave them an additional edge. Julia and Maryann peered back at Carmen and Roderich, and saw what they had already anticipated - Carmen bouncing off the walls and attempting to explore everything enthusiastically and Roderich looking for the punch bowl. Julia and Maryann looked to each other and decided the obvious person to follow closely was the small, Spanish lady who had forgotten how to speak German in her state of excitement, grabbing as many flowers from a vase as she could to place in her hair.

The pair swept her away from the vase quickly - Julia explained the flowers were earned while putting a red one in her front shirt pocket like a badge. Maryann lovingly placed the rest of the flowers back into the vase while slipping a few violet ones into her ponytail.

Carmen frowned a little as she let the flowers slip away from her, "How do I earn my own?"

Julia haughtily chuckled at the poor kid, "Don't worry, Clickity Click! You'll get yours soon enough!"

The trio then sauntered around the party like nothing the group had ever seen. Julia was clearly scouting out someone in the crowd, while Maryann goaded Carmen to get a little flirtier with the other party guests, claiming it would make her more memorable, in the meantime. Maryann did not anticipate how quickly and effectively Carmen would take on this advice, in how she wiggled her fingers and fluttered her lashes at all the people who wanted to talk to her. Maryann's face drooped a little - either Carmen was a fast learner or she'd maybe done some of this before. Regardless of whether or not Carmen was a fast learner, Maryann got slightly on guard-dog mode to be sure no one was out to bother her. Maryann would also fill Carmen in on all of the gossip she had about certain people they would pass, just so Carmen would be in the loop.

Once they'd reached a more colorfully lit side of the house, Carmen heard a click under her heels. She looked down and noticed the carpets she was walking on before had turned into a dance floor, and she struggled not to get excited. She couldn't wait for the four of them to start dancing! It then occured to her - she couldn't see Roderich anywhere in the crowd around her.

His disappearance, however, didn't absorb her thoughts for too long. Julia finally spotted the person she was looking for - a tall, strapping young man whose light brown mane was decked out in pink flowers. The East German approached the man confidently, with an air of flirtation in her tone.

"Yo, Hunk-garian!" Julchen called to him. With a turn of his shoulder, the surprised expression on his face turned into one of pride and anticipation. Julia winked up at him and moved in closer, separating herself from the trio as she purred up to him. "Wie gehts wie stehts, Schatzi?"

His hazel eyes flicked her up and down as the rest of him remained composed and relaxed. His voice cooed like a dove down to her. "I was wondering when this party would start," the man grinned, enveloping her in his arms and attempting to give her a tender kiss of greeting.

As Julia was too occupied to explain, Maryann leaned over to Carmen and whispered: "Daniel Hedervary. He's a triple threat and current leading man in the program. He's also the best male dancer here. Be careful though - he's Julia's."

Julia and Daniel's kiss had admittedly gone beyond just a greeting, but Julia paused, remembering why she wanted to find him in the first place - to challenge him. "Hold on there, Olló! I've brought a posse tonight. We're gonna dance all over you triple threats."

"Please tell me it's not just you and Maryann anymore?" Daniel teased down at the group. Maryann, not being one to easily admit to caring about petty insults, cranked her hand like a lever and flipped Daniel off with the daintiest middle finger she could muster. The slow burning in his eyes down at Julia could not match the intensity of her fiery, red orbs.

"Dan, my man," she announced, pulling Carmen up front, "take a good, fine look, but don't stare too long or she'll blind you." Before Carmen thought Julia couldn't get any hammier or hyper, the East German jumped back and flew her hands to frame her. Thankfully, Carmen knew to make a dramatic pose as Julia announced her: "Carmen." Maryann mustered some glitter from her pocket to be tossed in Carmen's general direction. It was originally for Julia, but she could live.

Daniel crossed his arms and lifted one hand up to stroke his chin, smiling wryly down at the pair. "Igen," he nodded, stifling a laugh. He could see why Julia took to this girl so quickly, "so you're the Flamenco dancer from Seville, right?"

"You better believe it," Carmen sassed up at him, chin held high.

Upon hearing the new kid speak in that sweet, almost squeaky voice while holding that dramatic pose, Daniel nearly fell into the trap of not taking her seriously. He had to remind himself this is the girl Julia claimed had lightening-fast feet. He curbed the suggestive tone in his voice to something friendlier. "Julchen says you're a stunner when you move. She didn't say anything about you being one when you're still." Julchen rolled her eyes. Typical Daniel - always quick to give out compliments. Poor, sweet child. Their dance team was going to crush his into dust.

"Oh, honey, trust me," Carmen started to laugh, "you don't even know what stunned is yet. Not until you see the four of us out there."

"The  _four_ of you?" Daniel laughed, peering around the trio. "Who else are you hiding, Julchen?"

Before he could get a good look around, Julia moved in close to him again, resting a gentle hand on the wisps of hair on the back of his neck. "You're just going to have to be patient and wait to find out, aren't you?"

Daniel chuckled down at her. "Okay, the dance-off can wait, but it's been so long since I've worked with a new partner," he gestured to Carmen while unraveling himself from his Prussian princess. "I'm more than willing to have a little fun before things get too intense. What do you say, Miss Carmen? Care to dance?"

"Would I!" Carmen's cool air was starting to chip away - she could barely contain herself at the prospect of dancing at her first crazy party. "Come on! Let's go!" Carmen jumped at the opportunity and pulled him out on the floor.

Those hazel orbs flashed in amusement, and a crooked smile appeared on his face upon realising the implications of his choices. "Rendben! Show me what you've got, Seville!"

Julia and Maryann watched the pair go with large, goofy smiles on their faces. The poor boy had no idea what he was going up against.

Carmen didn't even wait for the start of a new song to start moving - which Daniel was perfectly fine with. Dialogue was back on her mind with movement, and she could tell so many things about Daniel from their dance. Maryann wasn't lying when she said he was one of the best dancers - good timing, good energy, nicely-synched rhythm, etc. But his personality shined through as well - he was much more excited about creating a physical dialogue and making Carmen feel welcome than being the center of attention. And she could certainly see why he and Julia got along - they were both gigantic dorks who were very self-secure, as proven by Dan crouching to twirl under Carmen's fingers and follow on occasion. Watching them was cute, to say the least.

This cutesy movement changed with a more upbeat song in an instant. The pair looked to each other for confirmation before making more space on the dance floor. Carmen made it a point to observe her partner first, and was very pleased to see whatever training he started with, it was clearly folk-influenced. His jumps, claps, and footwork came from a place of passion Carmen could feel for herself, and she was more than happy to jump in and share her own. Each one lit up with immense appreciation at the hints of their own culture and gave each other the spotlight.

Their excitement was enough to garner a crowd around them as they kept going, with the rhythm of their movement stealing the show. It was at the height of this gathering that the music cut out and Carmen kept going on in the silence. Daniel and the crowd were so entranced by the speed and perfect rhythm of her feet that they clapped with her tempo and cheered her on. When the music cut back in, the crowd exploded with cheers as she finished her solo and their dance continued.

* * *

The only person who wasn't immediately in the crowd was Roderich, although he already knew what was happening. Sitting in a corner in the back part of the house, he nervously sipped on schnapps to calm his nerves and tolerate the situation. It wasn't to say he was uncomfortable with Carmen having a good time - far from it. He preferred she have a good time at this party, so long as he didn't have to subject himself to some ugly, personal scenes in the meantime. He would have joined the group circling around the two best dancers in the entire place if it meant he wouldn't be noticed. How he feared being seen and dragged onto that floor. The only flower he would allow himself was to be a wallflower, and his only way to cope was to water himself with alcohol.

Soon, Roderich would absolutely be noticed for sticking out like a sore thumb. It seemed everyone else around him was dancing, partially because Carmen was not allowing anyone to sit unless they looked incredibly winded. Despite what Maryann might argue, Carmen was clearly the belle of the ball, and it was difficult to watch her and not feel tempted to move.

Thankfully, Rod thought to slow down on the drinks when Carmen made her way to sit by him - he wasn't ready for her to see him appear tipsy yet, and he just kept himself off the edge.

Julia and Maryann stole the floor upon hearing Salt-N-Pepa start to play. While Julia broke through on flips and kicks, Maryann vogued and lip-synced, and the pair couldn't have failed to entertain the crowd that adored them so much.

Maryann, however, kept her gaze off and on the couple talking in the background, especially watching Carmen flirt like mad with him. Worse, Rod looking like he was reciprocating again, in the bashful way that irked the Parisian enough to stop herself from going on with another Salt-N-Pepa song with Julia.

Unfortunately, for Maryann, the next song that played was slow, and the lighting had changed. She visibly saw the pair blush, smile, and saw Rod shyly stand, ready to take Carmen's hand for her to lead him onto the floor. Maryann swooped her way in again and grasped Rod's hands instead, telling Carmen, "Julia is calling for you, mon ami! The battle dance! We have to plan, oui? I'll explain it to Roderich." With that, Carmen jogged over to Julia, ready for that battle Julia hyped up all week.

As the music progressed, Maryann started to fight her own battle with the man across from her. While maintaining a charming slow dance, she bored her ice-cold stare into the Austrian as her warm, welcoming tone froze over.

"How do you know that girl?" she demanded. Roderich simply stared for a moment, moreso confused by this switch than the fact she was dancing with him. He looked like he was zoning out.

Maryann sighed with a hint of exasperation. "This is not the time to be speechless from my beauty."

"Oh, it's not that," he spoke up. "It's just... exactly how many years has it been since you and I have spoken, just the two of us?"

Maryann scoffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Don't think this is some call of desperation. I have been through with those for a long time."

Roderich stared down at her skeptically. She was the one who reached for his hands first - that had to say something.

"So if it isn't that," he asked, "then what is this all about? What's going on?"

"Mademoiselle Carmen," she said to him accusingly, "What kind of friend would I be if I did not protect my own?"

Rod cocked his head to the side in quick thought before responding: "Well, for one thing, I didn't realize we were on such terms. For another, you have nothing to-"

"I was not referring to you," Maryann cut him off, glaring at him like an angry mother hen, before continuing to harangue him. "That ball of sunshine and sweetness does not need you to corrupt her - you can leave that to Julia and myself, thank you."

Roderich's face squinted upon registering the attacks. "Wie bitte?"

"I will not allow you to break that girl's heart," she nearly growled at him. "She is the pretty, little sister I never thought I would want to have, and  _I know you_."

Roderich registered exactly what was going on. So the night  _was_ going to get ugly after all. His irritation at Maryann's pettiness was becoming more apparent, and he wouldn't allow himself to be some confused pawn in the Parisian's game.

He kept a cap on his anger, but played everything else off as cooly as possible. "You don't think I'm capable of at least a little change in two years? Then again, the pettiness has yet to change in you, has it?"

Maryann smiled wryly, like a confident, all-knowing being. "You are not one to talk, my pretentious pet. Besides -  _those_  kinds of tastes I remember do not change. I know this." Maryann could tell in an instant if Carmen and Roderich were to end up together it would go over horribly. Carmen was much too innocent and sweet, while Roderich was not what he seemed.

The alcohol provided slow, steady proof of this hidden self, as Rod nearly made a comment about how knowledgable Maryann had grown to be about  _those_  kinds of tastes. The curt smile that graced his face momentarily was followed by that pretentious patronage she remembered.

"I find it hard to believe that I would  _ever_ be capable of that sort of heartbreak... unless," he shrugged, "you have something you wish to confess to, of course."

Maryann raised her chin and scowled, absorbing this new sense of self. This was not the boy she had a one-night stand with during their first year. However, this newfound assertiveness was not going to stop her from having her way. She patronized him right back.

"Hmph! So you've gotten cocky, all of the sudden. How cute. I only say it as a professional breaker of hearts."

"Not to worry" Rod simpered down at her bitterly, "I can assure you  _mine_ isn't broken at  _your_ fault."

Regardless of how small his level of audacity seemed to be, the fact it existed at all was enough to anger Maryann, but at this point her motivation first and foremost was to protect her friend by keeping him in line.

"Alright, let's cut to the chase, my little mouse," she threatened quietly enough to avoid causing a scene. "You and I are both shallow and superficial at our cores. The world is art to us.  _I_ can at least admit to it. Carmen is not a doll you can just throw away when you are finished playing with her. You hurt her? I hurt you. And I don't mean just socially. Are we clear?"

Rod could not fight her based on the merits of his reputation, as much as he wanted to. She knew most every shameful thing in connection to his past, and, while she remained a confidante he could usually trust with this information based on her relationship with Julia, if she felt she was doing the right thing, she would spill details. He just wasn't sure how to process still being a louse in her eyes, despite their acquaintanceship. He looked down at her, doing his best to hold his ground and remain unintimidated. He would not deny his past or the actions of it, but he would not let Maryann see the extent of his shame or how much her words had stung. All he wanted was to leave the conversation as soon as possible.

His response was curt and said through a clenched smile: "...Alles klar."

"Bon," Maryann forced a cordial smile and applied a quick few pats to his cheek before breaking away. "Now quit sucking up my time. I have more faces to see."

Once Maryann had left his sight, Rod was in quick search of another shot of schnapps, which he downed hastily, throwing his head back. Maybe the burn of the alcohol could distract him from the burn of his shame and make him forget. That shot might have been just what he needed to go over the edge. Already his vision was starting to blur.

* * *

The trio had gotten together to face off with Dan's group, but nearly everyone in either group was left to wonder where this mysterious fourth person was. The music started to pound through the speakers as they looked around. While Carmen waited, Maryann and Julia pushed forward with the dance battle. The face-off commenced between the two groups, but Carmen made it a point to dance and search the crowd for the last member of their quartet.

She didn't have to search for too long, as she saw Roderich, looking discheveled and missing his glasses, moving on his own and even gaining some positive attention for it. Upon looking up, he saw Carmen staring at him, awestruck, and their eyes locked together. Carmen hadn't ever thought eyes that dark shade of blue could make her blush or cause her jaw to drop, but here she was having to collect herself before dancing.

The crowd around them immediately caught onto their energy, and they hollered as Roderich whipped off his tie and flung one end of it dramatically at her. Her response was to pull herself out of her head and coax him onto the dance floor with the slightest of tugs. He reciprocated the tug and grabbed the free end of the tie, playfully keeping her close. Carmen could give into being a proud teacher and a blushing fool after they finished, but in the meantime, the quartet had a dance-off to win.

The dance battle that was commencing was starting to become aware of the change in the crowd, and their jaws went slightly slack at the sight of Roderich Edelstein, the eternal wallflower, on his feet with the lightening-fast feet from Seville. Not only was he on his feet, but apparently he didn't have two left feet anymore. Not only that, but the pair dancing on the floor was dancing in a way that was clearly not for the faint of heart. For people watching Carmen, this was not too terrible of a surprise - she had been dishing out fiery moves throughout the evening to accentuate her own flair, but seeing stick-in-the-mud Roderich Edelstein reciprocate that energy so openly was beyond belief. Their dance was fluid, electric, and surprisingly sexual on occasion with how close they would get to each other. After a point, the battle around them stopped just for everyone to gawk at the pair completely wrapped up in each other. Daniel, especially, was floored at seeing Roderich tear it up with Carmen. He looked to Julia for some clarification, but Julia just leaned into Dan and smiled up at him, "Did I mention Roddy took dance lessons while he was in Seville this summer?"

Their dance concluded with Carmen rising up from a dip, her face pressed close against Roderich's, as he latched to her raised leg straddling his hip. The splay of her loose hair falling around her face flashed like fireworks as the crowd erupted in applause. The pair barely noticed, as they kept staring into each others eyes and catching their breath. Roderich kept silent and serious while Carmen broke her concentration to voice her pride.

She was practically glowing as she whispered to him, "¡Guau! Lo hiciste, Sabelotodo." She continued excitedly into his ear as she wrapped her arms around him for a hug, "¡Estoy tan orgulloso de ti!" She didn't care if she had gotten any flowers - as far as she was concerned, she was holding a blooming wallflower and that's what mattered.

Not really processing her excitement, he maintained his stoicism as he released her leg and straightened himself up to stand. Carmen released herself as well, but latched onto his wrist to hold it into the air, now allowing herself to be overcome with pride. Daniel walked over to them after catching his breath at what he'd just witnessed with a bunch of flowers and placed a red one in Carmen's hair. He was just about to place one in Rod's shirt, but upon noticing Daniel approaching him, it appeared Roderich had lost all of his assurance and briskly walked toward the door. While Carmen was left confused at this motion, Maryann and Julia dragged her into the crowd so she could earn her props. Julia assured Carmen that Dan would check up on him - in the meantime, Carmen could brag about her pupil.

* * *

Dan stepped outside to find Roderich sitting on the stairwell and taking in the cool air. Rod turned abruptly when he heard the door close behind him, and turned back quickly upon realising who it was.

"I had a feeling you would be out here," Daniel smiled warmly, hoping to melt the tension, "You forgot your tie."

Rod remained quiet and introspective, as he wiped the glasses in his shirt pocket clean before placing the spectacles back on his face.

Dan descended the stairwell and sat beside Roderich. "Can you speak, or are you holding back vomit?" the Hungarian chuckled, leaning his back on the stairs, attempting to shoot the breeze. Roderich sighed through his nose before getting up and going back up the stairs to lean out on the rail away from him. Daniel soon stood to his feet, walked behind Roderich, and kept talking out of concern - he hated to see any guest feel excluded, but he especially felt guilty when it was his secret ex. He sighed before continuing.

"How have you been, Rori?"

Rod piped up somewhat bitterly over his shoulder, not attempting to make any eye contact with the Hungarian as he stared off into the moonlit conservatory ruins. "I thought we had agreed you had lost your right to call me that,  _Danny_."

Dan's smile grew fainter upon realising his mistake.

"I did. Sajnálom," Daniel sighed. "I just wanted to check in and see how you were. You know, like we're friends and I care about how you're doing or something like that."

Roderich laughed bitterly at the word friends, but remained quiet and hostile. 

Dan was familiar with Roderich's cold shoulder but knew to continue anyway, albeit in a somewhat teasing way, like old times. "You two looked great out there. I can see that you and Carmen  _clearly_ did nothing other than dance while you were away."

Roderich glared up at him, a fire in his eyes over a line Daniel realised he should not have crossed. Upon noticing the raise of Daniel's eyebrows and acknowledgement of his mistake, Roderich dropped his gaze before sighing and continuing to look out at the distant lights from the rest of the city.

Rubbing his neck for a moment, Dan could tell he was not doing well in easing their tension. The last time they spoke they had ended things on less-than-ideal terms, and the fact that Dan was quietly seeing Julia now was not helping to ease any lingering pain.

"Look," Dan went on, hanging his head down and placing the tie into Rod's hands, "I came out here to say I'm happy now, and I want to see you happy, too. You want the best for the people you love. Believe it or not, I still care about what happens to you ... So are you gonna go after that girl or what?"

Rod turned his head sharply at Daniel, already defensive of his feelings. "Excuse me?"

Daniel shook his head. Some things never change. "Because if you  _want_ ," Dan continued, discretely guiding Roderich back inside with an arm on his shoulder, "I can let the other guys know not to bother her." Daniel knew at least his word would be respected. If anyone were to bother the pair, they'd have to be content with answering to him.

Rod slipped himself out of Dan's hold and he went back to brooding on the stair rail, aggressively re-tying his tie. "They shouldn't be bothering her at all, if they know what's good for them," Rod murmured, tightening the tie quickly.

Dan's eyes grew wide for a moment before he started to laugh. "Now I'm sure you're too drunk!" he cackled in an airy way, "That doesn't sound like the gentleman I know."

Rod looked back at Dan for a moment, realising how dark he had just sounded, and held up his hands attempting to sound more conversational. The cold monotone of his voice and stoic look on his face chipped away.

"Oh, no, no. You misunderstand me. I've seen her  _fight_ \- she is not to be tried with."

"Oh," Dan absorded the concept and took a moment to reflect on the surprising new information. "Well then I'm glad I'm on her good side," he snickered, before giving Roderich a pat on the back and turning to enter inside.

Rod closed his eyes at the contact and felt a twinge of guilt over what happened to them, and how Maryann was probably right about him. Unless he wanted to vomit from having more shots in hopes of forgetting, Rod had to say something.

"Dan!" Roderich piped up again somewhat more urgently, like he didn't want the Hungarian to leave just yet. Probably a more patient human being than Roderich deserved to have in his life, Dan turned to hear him out. Looking back, he witnessed Roderich's eyes gloss over with guilt as the Austrian attempted to amend his behavior.

The necessary confrontation behind the question needed to occur. In his "tipsy" state, Roderich needed to know for sure where they stood as exes and where he stood as a person. "Please tell me... To you, was I ... Am I cruel?"

Dan's warm expression sunk at the topic. "You want the truth?" Dan rolled his shoulders back before taking on a more serious tone "... No. Snippy? Maybe. But you were not cruel."

"Did I hurt you?" The tender concern in Rod's voice was almost nostalgic, and the presence of it stung in a way Dan hadn't thought about in a while. Dan knew their time was sweet, but he knew their time was over. He loved Julia, and it was clear Rod had some feelings he needed to address with this girl from Seville.

The Hungarian ran a hand through his hair as he sighed, looking down to his feet before continuing solemnly, blinking away the reminiscent tears. "Rod, we both knew we were going to get hurt, if it had gone any other way. There was nothing else we could have done back then. And it doesn't matter now - this is what our lives have become, and they're not so bad. You can't tell me you're unhappy now."

"... I suppose I can't," Rod responded, trying to hide his own discrete tears. "I'm sorry," Rod chuckled solemnly, "I didn't anticipate caring this much."

"I know. You never do," Dan soothed, happy to come to some closure on their past. They each let their guilt shed away. "Now," Dan said, wrapping an arm around him again to coax him back to the party, "find that girl and let her give you your flower. You've earned one by this point."

Despite his better judgement, Rod shut the door Dan held open in front of them. Before Dan could reopen it, Rod held the Hungarian in a tight hug. Before Dan could say anything, Rod released him without a word and opened the door for them to return back inside.

Upon reentering the party, Carmen ran over to Rod and jumped into a hug, ready to drag him along and have him talk about his dance experience with her to the other guests. "Come on! You have to address your adoring public!" she teased.

Daniel tapped her shoulder with the flower beforehand, though, and Carmen gladly grabbed it and stuffed it into Rod's shirt pocket before dragging him along and continuing on excitedly. "You should have seen all the people that kept coming up to me asking about you after you left, especially the girls! I told you - no one would be able to keep their eyes off of you!"

As Dan watched Rod go, seeing that rare, delicate smile grace his face at the touch of Carmen's hand, he couldn't help but let a tear slip as he watched.

Julia caught her lover wiping a tear away on his shirt sleeve, and she pulled him into a bear hug.

"I get it, big guy," she cooed, "It's really weird to see him happy."


	19. A Dancer's Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late September, 1991, Salzburg, Austria.  
> Wednesday afternoon, the following week from the party.
> 
> Upon learning she isn't registered in Chrysostomus's Dance Program, Daniel agrees to help integrate Carmen into it bit by bit. Upon closer observation, however, Carmen starts to face some personal resistance and intimidation understanding how much work she would need to do, if she were set on auditioning here of all places.

 

Carmen had certainly made a name for herself as a performer among the other students in the conservatory without question, especially after what Julia and Maryann would call her "coming out" party. If she weren't interning part-time while in school, she likely would have been invited to be more involved in campus productions. She was at least asked to consider auditioning into the conservatory as a full-time student and staying in Salzburg more than three times that evening. 

It was a nice relief for her to hear this all, especially upon the realization that her courses were not majorly within the full-time dance curriculum at the school. Part of this realization caused her a twinge of irritation - she wanted to understand what a conservatory experience really was, and even while she was at one, she still couldn't actually see it? She would have a few choice words to say to her advisor when she got back to Seville. 

At least Daniel noticed her frustration that night and offered to have her shadow him Wednesday morning in one of his sessions. Carmen almost didn't recognize him with his hair all pulled up in a bun - somewhat of a miraculous feat, considering how ridiculusly long and flowing it was Friday night. As a fourth-year student, Daniel was trusted and respected by the instructors, and although he didn't provide the proper notice to his instructors, they knew him better than to think he would cause them any additional stress. He was trained enough to take on any of their extra work as punishment, anyway, so he wasn't too worried. Whatever would get Carmen closer to joining the dance program there, the better in his mind.

After receiving and taking a stern tongue-lashing like a champ, Daniel ensured Carmen was permitted to at least sit and watch. Initially, Carmen struggled to herself in remaining still, although she did maintain herself in the hopes she could keep Dan from any additional consequences. 

After a while of watching, however, Carmen was transfixed on all of the work she witnessed - the stretches, the warmups, the focus on each individual movement, the attention to details, the rigid discipline over each bend and angle. It was as mesmerizing as it was dizzying to watch. The realization had hit her that this program was at another level. If she were to dance for them, she couldn't afford to get lost, or she wouldn't shape and mold her work and herself into the professional dancer she hoped she could be. While she started to realize this was absolutely what she wanted for herself professionally, she also noted she had a ways to go before she could even think to audition. For the first time in a long time, Carmen started to doubt her own ability and wonder if she really was good enough to be a serious professional dancer.

Dan invited her to grab a quick bite to eat before his rehearsal and her class, and Carmen accepted, albeit hessitantly - she couldn't work up much of an appetite sitting still in the way she did. As Dan dug into his lunch and quietly missed the taste of sour cream, he eyed Carmen curiously. The way she poked and prodded at her own plate seemed unlike what he had seen before. He thought at first maybe lunch wasn't as important in Spain, but she also looked pensive staring down at her plate. Her serious demeanor compelled him to break from his puppy-dog-like stare and break the silence.

"So, what did you think of seeing a real conservatory's dance class in action?" he munched, the corner of his mouth etched up into a half-smile. "Pretty brutal, huh?"

Carmen's eyes flitted up to reciprocate the attention, and she nodded just as quickly to agree. Those green eyes were clearly filled with worry, and it showed in her apprehension to speak. Not only was her apprehension bizarre, but Carmen's lack of a smile or laughter at the sound of Dan's voice was disquieting.

"Es, um..." she started, "It's very intense, I see...  I'm sorry if I got you in trouble today. Your maestra seemed very upset."

Dan jumped back into his playful, older sibling tone to try assuaging her concern. "What, Arlovskaya? Pah!" he shrugged and brushed it off, simultaneously fixing his bun. "Don't mind her - she may look scary and talk a big game, but she's out to get your best when she does it. And really it's just her face," he stated, mimicking the same, stoic and intimidating expression she had on in class. "Very serious," he muttered through a stern pout.  

Thankfully, his imitation caused Carmen to snicker, which Dan took as a good sign, releasing the stone face back into its flamboyance. "Once you see that in her and get past her stare," he advised, "it's not so bad to spend so many hours under her watch."

"She certainly pushes you all to work very hard," Carmen observed, while picking again at her potatoes. "I hadn't thought about so many of these details in a long time - the way to hold your hand and all of that."

"Ballet training," Dan pointed out with a gesture of his fork. "While it is harder sometimes, I do think it beats training for a Honvédség, I can tell you this much."

Carmen blinked for a second upon registering the new word. She wasn't sure if it was Austrian German, regular German, or another language. She refrained from trying to place it though. Julia did mention he wasn't originally from Austria, and considering Roderich was touchy about his own country compared to others, Carmen didn't want to make the same sort of mistake.

"I'm sorry," she spoke up, "A what?"

Dan's hazel eyes blinked back wide in confusion for a quick second before he relaxed his face. "Oh, sorry," he continued, having forgotten for a moment about the language barriers, "The Armed Forces in Hungary."

"¡Oh si!" Carmen caught on with a small laugh and a palm to her forehead at her forgetfulness, "You're from Hungría! That's right! I'm so sorry," Carmen tried to soften the blow by placing her hand on his across the table. Keeping up with all of these different cultures could be confusing, and she didn't want to upset any of her new friends. She laughed, "It seems like all of my friends are from so many other countries! It gets so hard to keep track!"

Daniel chuckled right back at her. "Believe me, I know the feeling!"

Carmen leaned back again, resting into her laugh and hoping to ease the queasiness she wouldn't address in her stomach before continuing. "Ah, maybe you saved yourself some trouble with the military by coming here."

"Well, ah," Dan conceded, stroking the back of his exposed neck. "My family has a large military lineage. I might have been forced into the army, if not by the state then by my parents, were it not for the Pact falling through."

His nonchalance in the mentioning of a continental conflict she couldn't relate to started to bother Carmen all over again.

"¡Puf!" Carmen gripped at the edges of the table, "I'm gonna have to ask your girlfriend to start lending me some of her books. I could bang my head against the wall over all of the times I forget all of these wars happened!"

"Eh, that's not so bad. Don't worry too much over it," Dan tried to console her, "If it makes you feel better, I know nothing about Spanish history beyond Franco being against Communism."

"Well, that's you, and you're not studying abroad in Spain," Carmen argued back. "The courses I have right now ask that I understand at least some basics about the world wars and the Cold War. I guess it's just hard to get everything because it's not a large part of my life or my parents' lives."

"Well," Dan suggested, in a quieter tone than before, "If you ever have any questions concerning it, you have many people you could ask. Julchen and I know a lot about the Eastern block just from having grown up in it, and you would be amazed at what Maryann and Roderich could tell you about their families during the second world war."

Carmen leaned in to listen more to what Daniel had to share.

"Julchen and I are like open books - it's been known to scare people over here. Maryann and Roderich need more tact in how you approach them, látod?" 

Carmen listened in with so much focus she hadn't noticed Daniel was finishing up with his food and that he had to run to his next class. After finishing the last few bites of his food, he stood up, preparing to walk out.

"Take my advice, Miss Carmen: do what you can for your courses to pass, but don't worry about it too much compared to auditioning for the dance program here," he stated, poking at his temple in the end.

Registering his suggestion and registering her anxiety, Carmen attempted to deflect the remark, albeit playfully. "Oh, you're so sure I would want to transfer here after watching your class?"

"I think you could make it, if you really wanted. And no one's out to stop you, as far as I know," he answered her, applying a quick pat on her shoulder. "Besides, anyone who doesn't will have to answer to all of us who want you here just the same, Katona."

As Daniel ran off to his next class, Carmen was left to stew in her thoughts alone. She had to rationalize it with herself. Maybe living in Salzburg was the next step in her career. It's not like she hadn't thought about it before choosing to go abroad. Then again, how could she make a decision to live somewhere full-time when she hadn't even experienced a year there? When she had yet to understand the culture? When she had yet to have any sort of sensible reason to plant roots there outside of her job? And what about maintaining her academics? What about checking in on her family at home? Would phone calls be enough? Just thinking of her family on top of everything else only helped to make her head spin faster. 

She took a deep breath and paused to check the clock and saw she had to gather her things to go to that art restitution class. She hoped maybe it would make all of the head-spinning slow down and distract her from her concerns. Considering they would inevitably talk more about the impact of the Third Reich again, she wasn't betting on an easy day. She needed to get off campus and take a break from her worries as soon as she was out of class, and she remembered from her first day in she had another place she could pop into at anytime if she ever felt she needed an open home.


	20. Das Edelstein Haus, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late September, 1991, Salzburg, Austria.  
> Early Wednesday evening.
> 
> Carmen meets the family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - there is lots of German in this section. I wanted to go real' ham (does anyone say that anymore?) with the language barrier. Some of it is profane. If you happen to speak German, especially Austrian German, and something seems off to you, please let me know, and I will correct it. 

 

Carmen had somehow made her way to the house marked on her map. It was a bit of a hike, but the address matched what Roderich's mother had jotted down. Unless her handwriting had smudged since last she saw the woman. Carmen swallowed her fears with that last thought as she ascended the little ramp nearby the staircase - it was much easier on her feet. To quell her nerves, as well as catch her breath from all of the climbing, she paused to inhale deeply before knocking on the door. She quietly prayed Roderich or his mother would answer - not to say she wasn't ready to meet more of the family or that she couldn't be sociable if she needed, but it would just be a comfort to see a familiar face to pull her out of her worries.

Carmen mused a bit as she waited for an answer, remembering the ache in her feet from all the walking. God, she was tired. She could have saved herself some trouble and popped by Julia and Maryann's room, so she could sort out her professional woes; however, she noticed musical auditions were under way this week and planning for campus productions was starting to pick up. She didn't want to pop in on any impromptu production meetings. Besides – why bother them with her woes when they were obsessing over their own? She did her best to reaffirm it with herself - getting off campus and away from her stressors was what she needed. And the walk wasn't so horrible, despite all the stairwells Roderich warned her about.

Despite her wishes to see a familiar face, Carmen had no such luck. An older man answered the door - one who was tall and physically imposing, especially by the shoulders, but not too much as to cause Carmen to strain her neck looking up to face him. His face seemed to be fixed into a judgemental glare and the wrinkles hanging about it looked like they were frozen on the verge of cascading down. Through a pair of thin spectacles sitting on an incredibly familiar nose, he peered down at her with greyish, blue eyes that almost seemed out of place in the rest of his presence. When she expected to hear a booming, authoritative voice speak to her, she was surprised to hear a soft-spoken baritone say "Grüß Gott", even if the voice wasn't the most welcoming.

Carmen would not openly admit to being slightly intimidated by the sight – she had certainly encountered scarier-looking men and held her own fine, but that was when there were no language barriers. The lady took a second to respond and adjust her posture, feeling herself worry more about her lisp getting in the way of the language. Why were there so many s's? "Grüß Gott. Ah, sind Sie Herr Edelstein?"

The elder man at the door pouted down at her as he spoke, not changing his tone. "Wer fragt?"

Carmen was quietly berating herself, feeling her voice shake slightly as she spoke. Despite her nerves, this was not the time to keep quiet. "Ich heisse Carmen. Ich kenne deinen Sohn?"

Suddenly the stern look on the older man's face was wiped away as he tilted his head back and softened his brow. "Ah, ich verstehe," he smiled politely and released his rigid posture, and he gently held up a hand and nodded. "Moment mal, bitte." He then turned over his shoulder and shouted in the voice Carmen had anticipated up what appeared to be a stairwell. "Hans!"

Carmen heard a similar baritone call back down, the sound of his voice masked by the distance: "Was ist los, Vati?"

"Es gibt eine Dame für dich," the older man boomed, "Sie heisst Carmen."

While listening for a response, she heard gentle thumping and creaking from the stairwell before she heard the voice answer back, clearly confused. "Ich kenne keine Carmen."

The older man opened the door wider, so both Carmen and the man she assumed was Hans could get a better view of each other. Hans was most certainly this man's son, looking very much like a younger version of his father down to his modest clothing but with fuller, darker hair and a well-kept beard - probably to attempt to hide their similarities. He was able to express a simple, approachable charm from across the room, even though he might not have needed it – the man was admittedly handsome. His eyes matched the silvery tones of his father, as Carmen could clearly see when she noticed them flit over her in pleasant surprise.

"Ich wünschte, ich wüsste Carmen." Hans strode towards the pair at the doorway and extended his hand to her, as if he expected her to present hers for a kiss. "Grüß Gott, meine Dame."

In an effort not to be rude, Carmen presented her hand, blushed a bit at the contact, and giggled at the brush of his beard. Mostly, she was just embarrassed for him. "Ah, hallo," she answered him, her voice now shaking.

The older man clearly noticed her discomfort and spoke to Hans sternly. "So du kennst ihr nicht?"

Hans slouched a little to look at the older man innocently. "Noch nicht," he said before turning his gaze back to Carmen and wiggling his eyebrows, "aber ich würde es gern." Carmen couldn't understand everything, but she understood the way he looked at her. She forced a smile while slipping her hand from his grasp.

The stern attitude of the older man had returned as he addressed his son. "Hans, hör auf. Wo ist Bernard? Vielleicht ist sie hier für ihn." Carmen began to politely interject to say she wasn't looking for Bernard, but Hans was already booming up the stairwell as if he were yodeling in the alps. Carmen kept herself from flinching too noticeably and started to rub at her temples - she hadn't anticipated all of the noise visiting a house she assumed would be filled with gentle piano music. It did remind her a little of home, though, even if it sounded different.

"Bernard, du Beidl!" Hans bellowed, "Warum hast du mir an dieser Mädchen nicht erzählt?"

Another disembodied voice upstairs answered back - a tenor with a smoother sound, possibly one that had just woken up from a nap, based on the groan turned into a yawn.

"Mädchen?" Bernard called down, "Welches Mädchen?"

"Um, dieses Mädchen an der Tür?" Hans accused sarcastically with a gesture to the lady while shouting up, " _Deine_ Carmen?"

Slower footsteps creaked down the stairwell to reveal a slightly younger man, who was shorter and stouter than Hans or his father and who had almond colored hair and familiar, dark blue eyes. He definitely looked as if he had woken up from a nap - his faded band T-shirt, five-o'clock shadow, and messy, straight hair made him stand out compared to the others in their faded button-downs. Whoever these men were, she had clearly caught them when they weren't expecting anyone. Carmen was beginning to feel sick.

"Carmen? Wer ist Carmen?" Bernard was squinting and scratching the back of his head before he looked up and saw the young woman standing at the door with his father and brother. Carmen noticed this young man wasn't half bad looking, either. She secretly hoped he wasn't also going to hit on her.

After rubbing his eyes for a second to clear his vision, the surprised expression on his face melted into something he probably thought would sell himself better while he was in his pajamas. "Hallo, Carmen," he uttered to her flirtatiously. Carmen averted her gaze but kept her smile on while she internally screamed.

Bernard barely noticed his father push his glasses up and pinch the bridge of his nose. At least someone was open about expressing their embarrassment. After dragging his hand down his face, the old man voiced his impatience with his sons and addressed the pair in nearly a whine: "Du kennst ihr auch nicht?"

Bernard shrugged innocently and placed his hands in his pant pockets. "Na, aber ich würde es gern ihr kennenlernen," he grinned back at the crowd, winking at Carmen. His father was not amused, as he glared over at the two of them, who had both moved back towards the stairwell upon registering the look, attempting to voice their innocence.

Carmen's sudden movement caught all of their attention as she began, trying to curb her stress over possibly going to the wrong house. "Entschuldigen Sie," she spoke louder, in case they started to shout all over again, and turned toward the older gentleman at the door, "mein Deutsch ist nicht so gut. Sprechen Sie vielleicht Spanisch oder Englisch?"

"Oh, sie ist Spanierin," the boys were giggling to themselves, "Nett."

Their father was now half-facing both the young lady at the door and the two fools at the stairwell, glaring at the latter: "Hans, Bernard - hör auf, dumm zu sein. Oder geht weg. Du hilfst nicht."

"Warum fragst du nicht Carmen, wenn sie will, ob wir gehen?" Bernard argued, gesturing towards the lady by the door.

Hans had the same sort of idea: "Ja, was denken Sie, Carmen?"

Their father straightened his posture and crossed his arms, staring down his children. "Küche. Abendessen. Jetzt."

The boys peered towards the floor and reluctantly shuffled into the kitchen. "Okay, Vati." "Tschüss, Fräulein."

Upon registering the sound of his sons clattering away in the kitchen preparing dinner, the old man rolled his eyes and shook his head, with a familiar knit in his brow. He turned back towards the Spanish girl who was probably very lost and returned to his regular volume.

"Please excuse my sons," he pleaded, gesturing towards the kitchen.  _¡Menos mal!_  she thought. If this was Roderich's father, she'd believe it -  _this_ was the accent his mother was missing! Carmen swallowed her laugh upon registering it - she didn't want to offend the man, especially if this really was the wrong house.

He spoke a little louder and peered through the corner of his eye as he continued, in the hopes that his boys might hear the weary shame in his voice. "I expected better of them in front of a visitor - especially in front of a young woman." He turned back to face Carmen, with the kind, nurturing gaze that oddly fit such a pair of eyes. "I'm sorry we have taken up so much of your time, especially if you're lost. Hopefully we can at the very least direct you to the right house."

"No, I'm sorry," she said, trying to mask her stress and frustration through a smile. A few stressed tears threatened to crack through, but she blinked them away. "I thought this was it, but I guess Rod lives somewhere else."

At the mention of the name, there was a sudden clang from the kitchen and the house fell nearly silent. The older gentleman's eyes widened after he blinked a few times, processing her words. A flabberghasted smile spread across his face, and he leaned down to her level for clarification, to be sure he hadn't misheard her. "Roddli?" The older man uttered in slight disbelief and bubbling excitement, "You... you're here for Roddli?"

The two young men in the kitchen popped their heads out upon the mention of the name, looking back and forth between the pair by the door and then at each other in shock. The sudden smile that graced her lips as she nodded shocked them all even further.

A realization came upon the older man, and his voice and rigid stance were suddenly pleasantly enthused to meet the visitor who was much more darling than he could have anticipated. "Oh,  _you_ are the friend he made in Seville!" It was confirmed - the heads peeking out of the kitchen were floored and their jaws went slack, especially as they saw Carmen's eyes sparkle as she nodded up at the older man, whose joy helped ease her fear.

Hans and Bernard were floored. Whiny, bitter, prissy, little Roddli? Roddli, who never brought visitors home unless Julia was there? Roddli, who would lock himself in his room for hours to practice his violin or write compositions or just brood? Roddli, who kept Steinway & Co Magazines on his nightstand? Antisocial Roddli? Straight-laced, four-eyes, questionably gay Roddli? This captivating bombshell of a woman was looking for  _him_? And he wasn't home?? Could they add  _deppert_ to the list?!?

"Was für ein Freundin!" Bernard whispered over to Hans, who shook his head and gave a quiet whistle. Their precious, baby brother had some explaining to do.

The men snickered to themselves before being spooked back into the kitchen. "Ich höre dich dort drin!" Herr Edelstein shouted, to see his sons flinch and run back inside, quietly chattering to themselves.

Herr Edelstein changed his tone upon turning back to Carmen, back into a lively, warm welcome for his guest. He waved a dismissive hand toward the kitchen. "Don't mind them. I can assure you they mean no harm. They're just-"

" _Surprised_ , I'm sure," Carmen interrupted, to keep the explanation brief and save them all some embarrassment. "I get that a lot," she explained, looking less than enthused.

"I hope Roddli hasn't behaved this way around you," he said with genuine concern. Really, Herr Edelstein had no idea how his youngest acted around people he was interested in, if it was anything like his brothers. Roddli never brought anyone home. Really, he still had yet to bring anyone home - maybe that was how he dealt with it? By not being upfront about it? It wouldn't have been all that shocking.

Carmen's laughter was fairly blatant in answering the question for him, "There's a reason I thought I might be at the wrong house."

Backing away and nearly bowing, the older gentleman gestured to the chairs and piano in the living area. "Please, come in, come in! Have a seat! Make yourself comfortable! Take off your shoes, if you need to. I'm sure you must have sore feet from all of the walking. Hans, Bernard, please put on some of the Viennese coffee for our guest! I'm sure Roddli won't mind of your having some. You are more than welcome to join us for dinner as well, if you would like. We would have enough for you."

"Oh, no, no," Carmen shook her head, letting her giggle seep through at all of the sudden hospitality. "You don't have to go through all of this trouble over me. I don't want to impose, if this is a bad time."

"Oh, no no," he countered, with a welcoming assurance in his voice that continually made it harder for Carmen to think to leave as he sat across from her, with sincerity seeping from those silvery eyes. "My wife told me any time was fine, and I trust her judgement," Herr Edelstein smiled while adjusting his sleeves down, which Carmen took as a sign to adjust her sweater, in case there was a draft she had yet to register. "She mentioned you had come from a very long way on your own and that you were worried you would not feel welcome in Salzburg. I came here just that way by myself many years ago. I know the value of a nice meal, some coffee, and company when you are far from home. These are the least we can offer you."

Carmen understood she was sitting in a house with strangers, but she remembered Roderich's mother's words: "You aren't a stranger, my dear." Very quickly, she was starting to believe them.

* * *

Rod arrived home the latest that evening, unfortunately making him a half an hour late to dinner. He had to get more conducting practice in somehow, or at least figure it out with Julchen. Maybe the more he practiced it, the closer he would get to figuring out how to have the commanding presence he'd been lacking. He felt more defeated than anything at the time, and he was willing to put up with Mutti's scolding about his timeliness.

However, Roderich did start to worry when he head a choir of hearty laughter coming from the dining room. He bit his lip and leant against the wall to hide - he didn't remember if they would be having company that evening. Soon he heard the familiar, musical giggle that had long infatuated his ear and he had to bite his hand from making any sounds. The tired student became as stiff and white as a ghost, and his stomach flipped at the prospective afternoon that occured without him.

He had completely forgotten that Mutti gave her their address and he would have sworn, if he knew no one would hear him - he couldn't take that chance though. Mutti said to drop in anytime - of  _course_  she said to drop in anytime! Of course she did! Why would Mutti want to make her introduction as painless as possible for Roderich? Carmen came here  _without_  him? Was something wrong? Was she okay? Was she looking for him? How long had she been waiting? What had his family told her about him? Did she know about the Steinway Magazines at his bedside? How often had Hans or Bernard attempted to flirt with her? Had it worked? Did she like either of them better? Why did he care so much? She's her own woman - she was free to flirt with whomever she pleased. Wait - had she seen the portraits? Oh, God, what if she saw his childhood photos, or the leg braces, or the wheelchair? How would he begin to explain those to her? How would she react? Would she look at him differently for them? Would it change her opinion of him? Would she be mad at him for never mentioning them? Why would they need to be any of her business at all? Why did these things embarrass him more than her finding out about the Steinway Magazines? Oh, he was a dead man walking.

Roderich tried to take a deep breath that could go unnoticed before he thought to walk into a den of unpredictable embarrassment. Hoping he could remain unnoticced, Roderich peeked from behind the walls. He saw the family was mostly finished eating and just talking around the table. And, again, he saw Carmen, looking radiant, as always, even through her crinkly nose. It didn't shock Roderich that Carmen was telling a story of her own, although he probably needed better context for it.

"So I knew for a while the little restroom in the back of the class had a vent at the top, and I just thought to myself one day 'I could probably reach that', so I climbed over the top of the toilet and then on the paper dispenser and sure enough, I could reach the vent if I gave myself a good enough jump to climb in, and I did it! So here I am, climbing around in these vents just to see where they went and I stopped hearing my teacher, so I assumed I had made it into another classroom, and I did - I got all the way down to the room Célia was in. How do I know this? Because the ceiling gave weigh and I landed right on her!" The three busted up into obnoxious laughter, to the point where their eyes watered. It clearly wasn't the first time they had laughed this hard that evening.

Mutti apparently had joined that crowd as well. "Oh, your poor sister! I'm shocked! I never would have thought you could be so troublesome!"

Carmen shrugged, "I was five! I didn't  _plan_  for the ceiling to cave in - I just wanted to get outside and run around!" The brothers tried to come to Carmen's defense, but they were too busy trying to gain control of themselves about to fall into other fits of laughter. "It's fine though - we've spent years planning pranks against each other ever since."

After stopping himself to breathe and wipe his eyes, Bernard noticed his father give a strange headtilt toward the kitchen entrance, where a random curl of hair seemed to appear on the side wall. If Bernard could argue anything else about his baby brother, it was that he wasn't exactly a master of subtlety when it mattered.

Registering the sight, Bernard smiled wickedly and changed the conversation. "It's fine - I never planned on my friend's pet octopus being musically inclined, either!" Roderich felt his stomach hitch - he didn't like where this was going.

"Explain," Hans simpered mischeviously, also taking note of the stray curl in the doorway that looked like it was trembling.

Bernard shook his head before continuing, "It was before I went to Uni. I had a friend with a pet octopus. Marlena. Crazy, na? Well, I said I'd watch Marlena while she went on vacation in Amsterdam, if she promised to, ahem, pick up some things for me," he said while winking over at Mutti, who was not amused.

"Anyway, I didn't know about octopuses, but I thought 'It'll only be a few days - how much trouble could she be in that little tank?' Little did I know she could move outside of it," he continued while registering Hans and Carmen's tittering ooos and while he leaned toward the doorway expectantly and raised his volume, "She apparently took a stroll into Roddli's room while I was out, because I found her crawling back into the tank with Roddli's violin bow!"

The good-humored gasps in the room changed into laughter when they heard Roderich lurch and shudder behind the wall, with a hushed shriek. The family clearly heard and started to call him inside. Carmen took it upon herself to go into the other room and drag Roderich in to take a seat beside her. He kept his head down to hide the intense blush on his cheeks, but felt some comfort at the feeling of Carmen's hand and the sound of her laughter. She felt slightly bad about the collective trick on him, but seeing him spaz out like this was too adorable.

The only person in the room who wasn't laughing was Herr Edelstein, who was staring at his son with a smile wide enough to break his face in two. Roderich was slightly startled by it when he looked up to meet a playful pair of silver eyes. "So, tell us, before your appetite comes back - what were you up to this summer?"

The blush in Rod's cheeks deepened further. Clearly Vati had taken lessons from Mutti. Rod was at least grateful they weren't having seafood.


	21. Das Edelstein Haus, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late September, 1991, Salzburg, Austria.  
> Later Wednesday evening, the same night.
> 
> Carmen spends the evening with the Edelsteins, who are silently piecing together the story between her and their youngest son.

The rest of the dinner went swimmingly, although Rod never did quite get past his intial embarrassment. He felt his brothers' eyes on him and his father's proud gaze over a seemingly coincidental evening, but thankfully Carmen didn't seem to notice a thing, and Mutti was treating the evening like a cordial visit.

After dinner, Mutti suggested Roderich give Carmen a tour of the home, while Hans oversaw them, of course. With each space, Roderich was sure to turn all of the family photographs down, before Carmen entered. Obviously, Roderich showed her the little piano in the living space by the door and played her a few songs - many Chopin pieces that soothed the clatter of dishes in the other room.

Carmen was more than happy to hear and observe him play once again - she didn't believe he could ever underwhelm her with what he played. With how close he was to her, she almost wondered if she should could get away with leaning on him after such a filling meal, swooning from the music. Then again, with his intense focus, maybe he didn't want to be touched at that moment.

Instead, Carmen swooned gently from her seat next to him, leaning her arm onto the side of the piano to observe him. "You really do have a gift, Sabelotodo," she dreamily praised him.

Roderich wasn't sure how to take her praise with his family watching - he wasn't one to have a large ego among them, thinking it would come off as rude. Besides, it wasn't so often his family showered him with compliments on his playing - it wasn't like he asked them to. If anything, he appreciated it when they just sat to listen on occasion. Feeling her eyes on him, Roderich blushed and nodded while downplaying his performance. "You really are too kind. That piano's in need of a good tuning, to be fair, and I did feel some of the keys stick."

 _What was with all of this apologizing?_ Hans thought to himself,  _Was his brother really this nervous with a pretty girl?_  He had to prod. "Why don't you play your violin for her?" he suggested, lounging on the other side of the room and failing to understand his brother's sheepishness in front of a woman he didn't seem to understand what to do with. "That way you can tune it and the strings won't stick - you can just blame yourself for your mistakes."

Hans' teasing was not immediately appreciated by Roderich, and the musician droned back caustically, "What a wonderful idea. Thank you for your continued encouragement. I appreciate it deeply."

The unapologetic dryness in his tone had Carmen's smile bubbling up again. "Just play me something I don't know. I'm not gonna know the difference. I'm sure you'll sound wonderful."

"Well," he started, averting his gaze to the floor and retrieving his case, "I have been working on a concerto by Erich Wolfgang Korngold for my repertoire. It wouldn't be a  _terrible_  idea to practice playing some of it in front of an audience, although I wouldn't want to bore you. It is rather long, and some parts are better with more instrumentation."

Hans rolled his eyes - he was starting to understand why his brother was so quiet - if he didn't have anything witty to say the boy just babbled. Before Hans could tell his brother to get on with it, Carmen spoke with reassurance, "I can't imagine it being boring, knowing how you play." Her sincerity was unmistakeable to register, even for Hans across the room. This woman clearly adored his little brother, for whatever reason, and it was obviously a little more than just friendly. Poor kid - did he even know?

Roderich shrugged, attempting to hide his bashful smile and blush, "If you insist. You are our guest, after all. I just need the time to tune." Within a moment, Roderich pulled out his violin and checked his strings, wincing at the sound of them. "Please forgive me," he pleaded, "Some of these strings need to be replaced, and the piano is admittedly going a little flat. I can't promise the best sound... Erm, Carmen, would you please be a dear and play a few pitches for me?"

"Ah, just tell me where they are, and I'll play them," She answered back, gingerly brushing her fingers on the keys. Roderich struggled again not to stare at her running her fingertips over the ivories and sitting upright, looking like she was about to play in near stillness. Even though she lightly pressed a random assortment of notes, Roderich could have sworn he heard melodies upon the sight of her and felt a bundle of nerves form in his stomach. Coincidental? Maybe. Hopefully. Internally, he reprimanded himself. He'd played in front of her plenty of times - it seemed silly to have stage fright now. Was this stage fright? Rod tried to block it out as best as he could going forward -  it was all he could hope to do. Besides, he thought to himself, maybe if he focused in on something else the melody would go away.

Before Hans could interject to stop his brother from oogling too long, Rod already positioned himself behind the novice and guided her hands on the keys to the right notes, letting one of her hands rest on top of his. Carmen felt a few hairs on her neck stand up at the contact, from getting a whiff of him that for once didn't smell like sweat, and from hearing his gentle instruction. "You see here, the keys are A, D, G... E," he plunked out the last note with a quick lift of his hand, from failure to reach it on his own, and quickly returned it as if the movement never happened. He tapped at the low note under his pinky. "Just repeat this one a few times, and I'll tell you when to switch over to the D."

"Oh, guau," she exclaimed under her breath. Roderich hummed down to her in confusion, while she looked down, hiding her blush. "Oh, it's nothing. I just noticed you have very long fingers. That, or my hands are just very small."

For the briefest moment, Rod felt the impulse to whisper something witty and suggestive in her ear, but he recognized his contraints. Besides, Hans was watching them for Mutti - no doubt he would call Rod out or tease him for it later. Rod was stuck holding onto that flustered feeling. "They're not that long - they're just flexible. Lots of practice will do that," he heard Hans clear his throat, and Roderich was snapped back to reality - that response wasn't much better, now that he thought it over.

With a cough, Rod continued with his hand back on the piano, "Aha, yes, well, um, t-this pitch here, please. And please press your foot down on that peddle, too. To your right. It helps the sound linger." Carmen pressed her toe on the peddle and gently stroked the key down, with occasional pauses to listen to the violin strings resonate. She'd look back occasionally to witness Roderich concentrate and cock his head to the side with his eyes closed, determining how flat or sharp each note was.

His focus was absolutely mesmerizing to her. His performance on the violin was even more so, especially in attempting to keep up with the deftness of his fingers. Carmen could barely think about all of the nuances he could have possibly had in comparison to playing the piano, but as she closed her eyes she could hear the tiniest details enhance the sound - even the smallest, softest, most balanced vibrato to end each phrase. She felt gentle tears well in her eyes at the sheer artistry, which she blinked away. Not that Roderich could have seen her shed tears - his eyes were closed and his brow was furrowed to avoid seeing anything that would make him feel self-conscious, or distract him.

He especially did not think about the woman who could make melodies spring into his head in the right setting. Or how sleek the skin on her hands and forearms were when they weren't glossed in sweat. That new shade of polish she wore. How her hair cascaded down onto her shoulders and back like a waterfall. How its orange scent graced the air. The way the feathersoft wisps curled by her ears, framing the curve of her neck. The peek of her collarbones through her sweater's neckline hemmed down to the curve of her... Nope, no distractions on his mind at all. Nothing to make him sweat under the collar but the work - that was for sure.

As soon as he had signaled his finish, Roderich opened his eyes to see the fascination and wonder of a child in Carmen's smile and emerald eyes as she applauded him with her sweet "bravo!"s. The symphony he attempted to ignore in his head crescendoed back to the forefront of his mind even louder at the sound of her voice.  _Verdammt!_  He was beginning to feel somewhat lightheaded at the thought - either he had spent too much time indoors with loud instruments that they were just ringing in his ear in his exhaustion, or-

"Alright," Hans appeared behind him and gave him a few pats on the pack, causing Roderich to jump slightly, "Come on, Mr. Virtuoso - the tour isn't over yet!"

* * *

The three of them walked toward the back porch after Carmen grabbed her jacket, and Carmen beheld all of the warm colors plastered across the sky that made her forget the chill of the breeze. She hadn't realised how close to sunset it was that day and, frankly, she forgot to care, especially when she saw the colors reflecting on the little, white tips of the ranges.  _Nieve_.

While bringing a hand to her face and standing in the doorway, Hans spoke from behind her, leaning on the doorframe. "Schön, na? But that's not why we're out here," he teased, brushing past her to lead them on toward the presence of a delivery van and-

"¡Dios mío!" Carmen exclaimed suddenly, bending her knees down like she could spring herself onto the roof and startling Roderich next to her. "You have a Vespa?!"

Hans chuckled at her excitement, and fawned over his cherry-red scooter. He had a feeling she might be impressed with it. It tended to have that effect on the ladies he came across. "Serafina. She is my pride and joy. Do you ride?"

Carmen turned back to Hans and fawned wistfully, balling the ends of her jacket sleeves in her hands. She thought back to times she would see someone on the cobblestone streets at home zipping along. "Oh, I don't drive, but I wish I did, just to ride one!" she swooned, "They look like so much fun!"

"Well, you don't have to know how to drive one to ride one, you know," Hans shrugged, walking over to Serafina to polish her and emphasize her metallic glory. After a moment, Hans found his way behind his brother. "I'm sure..." he continued, while suddenly resting his hands on his younger brother's shoulders fast enough to startle him, "Roddli here would be happy to give you a joyride."

Rod's eyes widened in masked exasperation at the notion. He was just starting to calm himself over the symphony playing in his head in connection to that girl and worrying about her possible judgement - now Hans was going to throw him into another mental challenge? It'd been so long since he'd driven - would he look like a liar to her? Would he need to explain himself before they left? Should he bother explaining himself at all, or would that ruin the excitement of the ride for her? What if she wanted to race along - could he still maintain control of the scooter? So many worries and so much frustration at Hans for even suggesting it. The glare Rod shot Hans when he looked back could have burned holes into his brother's head, but Hans only responded with a wide grin when Carmen jumped up and down and swung Roderich back around to face her.

"You can  _drive_  one of these!?" she beamed up at him in pleasant shock. It seemed all the colors of the sky reflected off her hair and eyes, to the point where Roderich wondered if she really were a celestial lady. He found himself overwhelmed and figuring out where to place his agitiation again.

"Well, I... I-it..." he sputtered nervously between the pair, but relaxed into his response once Hans gave him a less-than-discrete wink Carmen didn't seem to notice.

"...it's no big deal." Rod sighed and shrugged, trying to play it cool. "It was for making deliveries."

Hans butt in, nudging Carmen and mumbling down to her, "Picking up and dropping off the sweet bread, as I would say." The comment caused Carmen to snort through her nose, while it only caused Roderich to get defensive.

"Oh, Hält die Klappe!" Roderich huffed over to his brother in agitation, to even imply he was the kind of man who looked for trouble. He made damn sure to hide that bit about him from his family, "I would do no such thing!"

Hans continued to tease and reminisce about his brother and Serafina to Carmen, with an arm wrapped around his little brother's hitched shoulder. "This guy would drive her around any chance he could get. It would have explained where all of my fuel went these past few summers, anyway. I should maybe start asking for my money back."

Before Rod thought to shove Hans away and start to argue, Carmen interjected with more excitement, grabbing his hands all over again and pulling him towards the scooter, "Oh, now you  _have_ to take me out for a ride!" she bounced in that adorable way she would when she was overcome with excitement.

"She's right, Roddli," Hans looked over slyly at the pair, jingling his keys, "The season's almost over," he continued, passing Carmen the helmet for her to try on. Hans smirked over at his brother as he continued, knowing just the thing to do to get under his skin. It seemed he didn't have far to go, seeing his little brother quietly seethe at this predicament. "Of course, if Roddli's not up for it, Bernard or I would be happy to-"

"Gib mir der Schlüsseln," Rod snatched up Hans' keys with a clenched growl and stormed inside to grab a jacket, knowing full well his brother had manipulated him into it and feeling annoyed over it. He would take the manipulation though, if his reaction was the reason he was hearing Carmen's cute giggle from the kitchen window. Roderich was too bothered to notice the side glances from his other family members hanging out in the kitchen to listen in on the commotion.


	22. Journeys from the Joyride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late September, 1991, Salzburg, Austria.  
> Later Wednesday evening, the same night.
> 
> Roderich and Carmen spend some time together by the River Salzach, and Roderich decides to open up about... some things...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - Okay, warning - this chapter is split up into three parts (I think this is the longest one yet, actually), and the second part touches on some sensitive material - the sort of stuff I've mentioned in previous chapters relating to Austrian and Spanish history in the 20th Century - it goes there a little, although not in serious detail. You have been warned - take all the necessary precautions you need. Enjoy!

 

And so Roderich and Carmen embarked on a joyride on Serafina in Salzburg, as was Hans's suggestion. Like a good older brother, he made sure the pair were protected, especially the inexperienced Carmen. Hans was sure to adjust her helmet to be sure it fit just right while Rod gathered his things inside. She admittedly looked goofy, like her head was turning into a giant cherry, but Rod would be lying if he said it didn't look cute on her. Besides, he didn't feel he had a right to comment - the helmet he had to wear probably looked even more ridiculous on him. He could at least get away with wearing pilots to hide his face. 

As Roderich reemerged outside, he saw Bernard had joined the group to give Carmen her backpack. He was whispering something into her ear through the helmet, which made her hide the uncovered part of her face and fidget toward the cherry-red scooter, where Hans assisted her onto her seat. Rod rolled his eyes behind the pilots as he approached Serafina and felt both Hans and Bernard pass him by with sharp, loud taps on his helmet, which caused him to scowl back at them. He could have sworn he heard a "Macht Spaz, Falco" under one of their breaths. He grew suspicious at that comment - what had they said to her? Maybe it was better he didn't know - Carmen didn't seem upset. In fact, she seemed completely invigorated to go. If anything, he would probably upset her if he kept her waiting too long.

Roderich accelerated faster than either one had anticipated intially, and Carmen clutched him tightly by the stomach with a squeak as a result. Even with the trunk attachment in the back and the rail, the fact of the matter was the vehicle still did not have seatbelts, and Hans and Bernard were sure to remind her that the best way to stay on the scooter was to hold closely to the driver.  She wasn't going to risk getting injured so early in the year.

Upon catching her reaction, he slowed down to a more moderate pace, keeping in mind any injury she might sustain should something happen, no matter where, could be detrimental to her as a professional dancer. He completely understood if she were frightened for those reasons, even if she never would admit to it. He wouldn't deny that her intense stubbornness and pride could get on his nerves, but he would be lying if he said he didn't find her expression of them endearing. He pondered how many new adventures she had she gotten herself into where she would so obviously freak out as they happened. Was she just surprised, or was this one of them? 

Roderich got his answer when they had to stop for traffic. Clearly Roderich was not one to be a wild driver, even if the Vespa were his. He wouldn't drift, or burn out the tires, or dare race anyone. He could count on his hands how many times he'd made the tires squeal. Here, he was not one to cause trouble. As the scooter gradually haulted to a stop, Rod expected his guest to loosen her grip and place her hands on the rail behind her for support, considering it would work just as well if not better than his torso; to his surprise, she kept holding on like before. Was she really this distressed?

Roderich cleared his throat - a noise he knew she could at least sense instead of hear - as he spoke over the motor. "Are you alright back there?"

"¡Sí, sí!" she called back, "¡Lo siento! Is my grip too tight? I don't want to make you uncomfortable!"

"I thought maybe  _you_  were uncomfortable," he responded. "It would explain why you've been latched onto me this entire time when you have the back bar you can hold."

Roderich could feel her loosen her grip and lift herself upright, changing her tone to one of discovery of a trick. "I can hold onto that?"

"Well, it would certainly make sightseeing easier, don't you think?" he answered her with a short chuckle, but continued on when he didn't hear or feel one back from her. In truth, Carmen was a little annoyed about having been made to look like a fool; however, she wasn't letting go just yet - the threat of injury on the road for her was too real, and she couldn't think to fight her way out of an accident, should one happen. That was surely the only reason. She wasn't siphoning warmth from her driver in the slightest - she didn't think it was cold enough to admit to doing that. Which she wasn't. 

Carmen could hear and feel his voice vibrate through his back as he annunciated to her, "You know, Carmen, if you're sc-" he stopped himself, "if you still want to hang onto me, that's fine, but I just want you to know the sky looks so incredibly colorful and clear and I can't begin to tell you all the things the light is shining off of while I drive, or how rare it is to see something like this around here."

Carmen continued to hold onto Roderich through the stop and up until a little after he'd been moving forward. When she felt she could, Carmen sat up and reached for the back bar with one hand while holding onto Roderich's shoulder with the other. Once she felt the bar in her hands, she took in a deep breath and reached the other hand back, grabbing the bar in a near panic before realising she barely had to lean back to hold it and keep her balance. Carmen laughed to herself and took in all of the awe-inspiring pastels above her that had gotten the slightest bit bolder. They hadn't missed the sunset yet, thankfully. She turned her head from side to side to observe her surroundings as they passed each by - the greenery, the buildings, and soon a large body of water that reflected the mountains further out on the horizon. 

Rod specifically made it a point to stop by that riverbank promenade in the Altstadt to keep talking - mostly because he didn't feel like shouting over the buzz of the engine. That, and the prospect of getting bugs in his teeth was nearly as revolting as the memory of Marlena sneaking into his room unannounced. Besides which, he wanted to set any record straight his family might have twisted in his absence.

* * *

With Serafina chained and locked to a nearby tree, the pair didn't do much by way of walking - Carmen was still too tired. This was fine, of course - the pair claimed an open bench nearby and watched the reflections of the mountains and the swinging Makartsteg Bridge dispurse with the gentle tug of the breese skimming the water. It wasn't nearly as ornate as the Triana Bridge, but that didn't seem to matter to Carmen once golden lights illuminated the historic town as the sun left the sky. Rod wasn't lying when he said the view was pretty. They stuck around for a while, just shooting the breese and claiming either end of the bench. Carmen took up more space for an occasional stretch - ones Roderich was becoming more used to seeing. So much so he didn't need the pilots to hide his blush, although they did rest further down the bridge of his nose, just in case.

"So Hans is the oldest?" Carmen asked, more so a stated assumption than a question.

"Yes," Rod affirmed, "eleven years older than me."

"Eleven?" Carmen's eyes widened. "¡Guau! That's a big age difference! I can't imagine having a sibling that much older  _or_  younger. And Bernard? What about him?"

"Five years," Roderich observed with a smile, taking a moment to gague her surprise and shine the helmet sitting in his lap, hoping he could sneak a peek at his reflection in it and get an idea of how bad the inevitable cowlicks were. He turned to face her before he risked smoothing down hair he couldn't see. "The age differences seemed to even out over time. I guess my parents thought it would be easier to have children once they could have extra hands to pick up on any chores they might neglect."

"Hmm. Not a bad plan. Why don't your brothers move out?"

"Well, they both work at the bakery. It would be inconvenient to move out."

"Family business. Right. Why didn't  _you_  end up working there?" Carmen asked, eyeing him mock-suspiciously and jostling his shoulder.

Roderich played along by tilting his head and childishly slumping back into the bench while peering up at her innocently. "Well, I  _did_ put in my time, if that's what you were concerned about," he jokingly whined. "They wouldn't let me get away with playing music  _all_  of the time."

Carmen shifted her seat on the bench and crossed her legs facing him, playfully folding down to him over the helmet in her lap. "Well, what made you different from Hans or Bernard?" 

Roderich planted his feet and slid himself to sit up again, quietly monitoring the action and weighing his options. Of the many things he had yet to tell her, this was probably the easiest to confess to. Carmen noticed his calculating expression peering into his helmet and she pawed at his arm like a cat, still prodding him to answer. 

He put the helmet down at his side. "When I got older I put in my time," he assured her. "I didn't start working inside as young as my brothers started. They were brought in to help with the bakery after school when they were both at least nine - sweeping the floors and moving supplies and whatnot. Nothing too strenuous." Roderich hessitated as he continued on, looking down to his lap - a hint of shame entered him at the thought of sweeping the floor being too much for him to have handled, worrying about the impression he was leaving on her. His feelings on the matter risked keeping him quiet. He took a deep breath and slid the pilots off before continuing. "When I was very young, I was not... the healthiest of children."

Carmen's brow perked up, hinting at the concern she felt as she listened. She breathed out an "oh" before Roderich nodded and continued on, doing his best to downplay the seriousness of it and failing miserably. He could sense her emotional concern, and it started to unnerve him a bit - he wasn't looking to be pitied, but he wasn't sure how to express that feeling nicely, if he went on. He certainly didn't want to snap at her - she didn't deserve that, necessarily. It was clear he was growing more nervous and uncomfortable as he continued, especially as he started to slump over and cover his flushed face with one hand as he spoke. The only thing keeping him remotely upright was a hand he planted on his knee. "I would get sick very easily and very often, and because of this I would... I would have certain... umm..."

Carmen reached her hand forward to place on top of the hand gripping his knee. Her contact caused him to look up and meet her gaze, which did something to calm him with the ghost of that golden light bouncing off of her. Always the celestial lady.

Carmen already knew he was trying to bring up his wheelchair and his leg braces. Considering she'd been in the house a good while before Roderich came home, she'd had enough time to look at old family photos on the walls and end tables. She specifically remembered seeing a family portrait by her side while waiting for her coffee from what looked like another time altogether. She saw a happy family wearing large smiles with the exception of a frail, little boy gently holding onto the armrest of the chair where his parents were seated and smiling softly, clearly doing the best he could. The straps surrounding his knees and metal hinges screwed into his shoes broke her heart. It might have explained so much - the ramp outside, the awkward motion, why he was always so cautious, all of the emotions that would risk bubbling over when they practiced footwork in the summer, his self-consciousness at any talk of swimming or hiking or skiing or fighting or dancing. 

She felt some shame and her own discomfort at seeing that, but not because of him. As a little girl, she probably would have picked at him, which was a thought she would never be proud of having. In any case, she didn't want to risk making them both uncomfortable when she didn't have to - they both had enough happening to make them feel that way. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," she soothed. 

Roderich looked like he was going to let the topic go. He kept his gaze downcast and continued on mild-manneredly. "I suppose I..." he paused, and suddenly a steady anger started to bubble up in him, causing his brow to furrow and his posture to straigten. He'd already gotten this far, and, dammit, she had to know it happened and he had to know if it was going to be a problem.

He spoke with a thicker skin. "You know what? No. No, I trust you-" Rod attempted to assure her, even as they went on to interrupt each other.

"Roderich, it's fine. I don't want you to feel like you have to-"

"And it's really nothing for me to feel this silly about-"

"Well, if it's making you uncomfortable, please don't force yourself to-"

"It's no  _big deal,_ "he whined, stopping the overlap, and brushed off her concern with a sporadic wave of his hand, trying to sound as indifferent about it as possible."It's  _whatever_. It's probably  _better_  you know this, really." He went on to face her fully again as he rushed out his explanation in this same, casual, blasé manner with a slight, underlying bitterness. The quicker it was out, the less time he had to stop himself.

"As a child, I spent some time relying on a wheelchair and leg braces to get around in places where my condition alone wasn't worth the money to renovate the buildings. Their choices were  _never_  my fault anyway, and even if it did have to do with some sort of disturbing, Darwinian mindset, I still know they were wrong. I mean, I wasn't  _intentionally_  turned into a late bloomer - you can't predict disease, of course, although you can certainly do something to accomodate it when it happens ... But that is neither here nor there. And either way, this experience doesn't do a thing to make me subhuman - I don't think any experience like it should ever make anyone feel or believe they are less than human. Anyway, those are my feelings on the matter, and that's that."

Carmen was stunned moreso at how quickly Roderich expressed all of this. Clearly his nerves pushed him to speed it all along, but this was the most unapologetic she had ever seen him. Which was probably a good thing. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she had said something or done something to pull this out of him - if she hurt his pride and caused him to firm his stance. Maybe this was his pride talking. If so, good for him. She was left stewing in her thoughts in silence, before she heard Roderich address her again. "Well? Do you want to say anything?"

"What can I say that you haven't already said?" Carmen shrugged, adding in a little laugh to ease the tension. "I mean, I'm glad to know we're on the same page about people being people and that you trust me enough to tell me all of these things. I don't think I need to tell you things you already know, unless you're asking me to."

"Which I'm not," he asserted, stubbornly, with crossed arms. 

"Okay," she chuckled, holding her hands up in surrender, "Just making sure." Carmen bit her bottom lip to keep herself from smiling too obviously, in case it might insult him. She would have affirmed his beliefs on the subject anyway if he asked, considering she shared them, but she was also thrilled to see him defend his stance and acknowledge the importance in his story. Even if she had nothing to do with his expression of that pride, she was happy to see her pupil continue to flourish.

"I am a little curious though," she continued, reflecting on all of the isolation he must have endured. "Your childhood sounds like it could be lonely, not really having anyone around your age a lot of the time."

Roderich's pride faltered for a moment, in a small droop in his posture and a loosening of his brow, before he inhaled a little deeper to catch himself. "...It could be quiet," he conceded. His stubbornness, while cute, was also kind of heartbreaking. He shrugged, "I  _like_  quiet, though. It wasn't a large loss. And it wasn't as if I cared for being well-liked, anyway. I had... bigger concerns to worry about." 

Although it wasn't his intention to sound dark and serious, his last phrase sent a small chill up Carmen's spine.  _That's a lot of pressure to face as a kid_ , she thought to herself.

Upon registering her discomfort and realising where the conversation had steered, he did his best to bring it back to something lighter. He lounged his back into the bench and laid a glowing smile on his face as he recollected, "Hopefully, you'll appreciate that music was one of those concerns."

Carmen gave him a teasing smirk and lounged herself horizontally along the bench, now nudging his knee with her foot. "Well,  _that_  doesn't shock me. Although that doesn't really sound like a  _concern_  to me." 

"Well, maybe concern isn't the correct word to use for it. I think it was more like an  _obsession_." He continued on without any sign of withholding, with his eyes lighting up and his voice nearly singing over the one joy of his youth. "I was obsessed with music from before I could even speak! You can thank Mutti for that. She taught me to play piano, and I picked up the violin soon after from a nurse. So while the other children were running around outside, I would stay in and practice. It got to a point where I became rather good at them both. Scarily good, even. Mutti encouraged me to pursue it more seriously, and I started to perform in front of people as a result."

"Child prodigy. Of course!" Carmen needled him in good humor. "Why am I not shocked?"

Roderich perched up and leaned closer to her, confused. "Vati  _didn't_  show you any of the photo albums from those performances? I'm shocked - he's very proud of those pictures. Besides, they're the only proof I have to claim I was ever cute."

Carmen snickered through her nose. "Did you say al _bums_?" she annunciated, letting her lisp slide through the air freely. "Like, more than one? You performed that much?"

"Oh, I would practice and play at festivals and concerts all of the time I was allowed! It was part of my physical therapy, oddly enough - I remember wanting very badly to stand upright while playing the violin to look like a professional. I suppose that's all a child really needs to be impressed by a performance. It was purely an aesthetic whim, of course, but it got me out of the chair. I do think a lot of why I was given so much at first was because of the irony of it all. Think about it - a young boy from Salzburg with great musical ability who performs around the country? Who would  _ever_  have heard of such a tale here, of all places?"

Carmen's smile was catlike as she answered him back, wiggling her eyebrows at the end of the phrase. "Certainly different from most... starts?"

Roderich shuddered his laughter down and hunched over in his seat. "That was heinous. Anyway, as you would have imagined, I couldn't keep performing like this forever. And eventually I had to stop - Bernard went to Uni, and puberty was starting to make me less cute. But by that point I was out of the wheelchair and starting to rely less on the braces. Then it was work, everyday, after school, until I went to Uni."

"Huh. Busy boy. So, let me guess. Bernard studied ... Politics?" 

"Business Administration, actually," he teased. "He helps with the monetary operations in the bakery, mostly. Hans works with Vati on the actual baking, especially because Vati's back is going, even though he's too stubborn to admit it."

Carmen noticed the worry start to set into Roderich again, at the mention of his father aging and she sat up again, hugging her knees. As much as they could get under his skin, the love he had for his family was undeniable, but especially for his father. "You care a lot about him, don't you? Your papá?"

He smiled warmly at the thought of them. "I can't think of any reason why I wouldn't. The same goes for Mutti. I think all three of us have the same sentiments in that regard, which is maybe why we really stay at that house, but especially with Vati. We're all he has."

"He's very attached to you all! I can tell!" she nudged him with her foot again, causing his smile to deepen as he continued to reflect. 

"Undeniably. I was told we were named after his own older brothers. I'd like to think we were all named appropriately. As far as I know, Hans was the model child - fine manners, people-oriented, selfless. He would've been a great Rabbi. Bernard was a genius! He was going to win a Nobel Prize for Science in Medicine and possibly cure cancer."

"And what about Roderich?"

"Oh, he was the olympian." He responded, 'absentmindedly' flexing his arm after bringing his hand to his chin in thought. Carmen snorted through her nose and broke into a fit of laughter at the cheeky beanpole sitting next to her. Her response garnered a goofy smile and wiggle in his brow along with a laugh bubbling up through his nose. " _Clearly_  divine intervention played a part in our names," he spoke through a wide smile.

Carmen laughed hard enough to cause her eyes to water, and she sighed contentedly as she whiped the tears from her eyes. "They sound like great men!" she beamed.

Roderich returned the smile for a moment, but his gaze dropped to the ground and he pursed his lips in more ominous thought, clasping his hands together and giving his palms a few squeezes. He soon looked like he was a few steps away from brooding. "I'm... sure they were... I wish I knew more about them."

"You never got to meet them?" It seemed as though she blurted the question out, even though she asked cautiously. 

Rod shook his head and gave his hands another squeeze, feeling a shiver crawl up his spine. He shut his eyes, knowing Carmen was going to ask more, but this time he didn't think he could put up a stubborn, brave front about it like before. He couldn't deny the overwhelming helpless feelings. It looked as though it pained him to continue. "...My hope is that you'll understand why, so I don't have to say it."

Her curiousity soon switched into embarrassment and quickly after into horror. "Oh? Ooohh. Oh, Rod. Lo siento mucho. I-I thought that was before his ti-"

"Vati doesn't talk much about his life before he met Mutti or working for the Beckert family, but he will occasionally give us some trinkets to hold onto. He has lived through so much at a very young age, quite miraculously, really. If he were any younger, he would have.." Rod could not bring himself to finish that sentence, as a lump had formed in his throat at the thought of what could have happened to his father. He clenched his fist tightly in the hopes that the sensation might keep him from letting any tears slip. 

There must have been several things that could have happened to his father, and Roderich had spent years speculating once he found out such a horrible tragedy was part of forming such a warm, carefree, loving human being. Upon noticing the mist forming in his eyes and the quiver in his lip, Carmen instinctively swerved her legs behind her and wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling her cheek into his shoulder. She heard the vibrations from his wavered breathing. He was attempting to steady his own breath and go back to speaking as calmly as before. "I am so lucky to have that man in my life, for many reasons."

"He's lucky to have you, too." She cooed into his back, squeezing him a little tighter. "He's lucky to have all of you." A sob that would have looked subtle to any observers escaped him, but with his body right against her she could feel all of the forlornness in such a cry. 

Roderich pulled himself up to sit and dried his eyes on his jacket sleeve, as if the motion could erase what he'd just done; his snifle, however, wouldn't fool anyone. Carmen adjusted to leaning on his shoulder. He'd finally caught his breath after a brief swallow and attempted a smile. "But, as Vati says, why dwell on ghosts from the past when better spirits can lie in the present, hmm?" 

Carmen tried to return the smile, but hid her face into his shoulder while still holding onto him. It was the first time Rod had ever audibly heard her voice crack. "Rod, it may not be the exact same thing, but I understand. I was just a little girl when Franco died. I still don't know what my parents had to do to live, the sacrifices they had to make - what their parents had to do. They worried so much for me when I started dancing flamenco, of what might happen to me. I didn't know we had Roma blood. I didn't know what that meant. Nobody could really teach me what that meant." Upon the mention of the word 'Roma' Rod sat up and immediately cradled Carmen into a hug, allowing her to cry on his shoulder. Carmen spoke forcefully through her tears, as if to affirm her feelings to the world more than she needed to affirm them to herself.

"I am proud of who I am and where I come from. I am a proud dancer. I am proud to dance Flamenco. I am proud to dance it well for myself and to dance for everyone who couldn't before me. I am proud of my parents. De las familias Fernández y Carriedo. I am a proud gitana. I have everything to be proud of."

* * *

Roderich dropped Carmen off at Chrysostomus before returning home. Carmen latched onto him in a cozier manner this time, claiming she was doing it because she was just tired and she'd seen all she wanted with the sunset. The gentle cheek kisses she graced him with were starting to make him feel lightheaded and definitely warmed him in the chill of the late evening. The memory of them coupled with the beauty surrounding him on the way back to the house brought music to his ear once again, forgetting he ever complained about Hans never installing a stereo on Serafina. He was elated to discover that orange smell lingering on his jacket, even through the windy ride.

His weightless feelings came crashing back down as his brothers pulled him through the doorway and began their interrogation. The questions just kept coming:

"Did you pay for her to come over?"

"Seriously - she is much too fun for you."

"How did you land a girl like  _that_?"

"Have there been others?"

"What else have you been hiding from us, Roddli?"

Rod shoved them off defensively and kept his shoulders hitched as he broke for the stairs to get to his room. "Mutti invited her!  _I_  had nothing to do with this!"

"She did come looking for a son, though," Vati peeped up from his book on the sofa, peering over his glasses. "That's who she asked for at the door."

"Why are  _you_ doing this to me?" Rod whined, turning around halfway up the stairwell. "What did I do wrong?"

"What did you do  _right,_ Roddli?" Bernard groaned up at him, rattling the banister.

Hans walked up to Rod on the stairwell, wearing his abandoned spectacles. "I think we need to have these checked. They clearly don't work," he badgered his baby brother, with a hand extended to collect his keys.

Roderich hastily snatched the glasses from Hans's face after shoving the keys into his open palm. "Oh, stop it!" Roderich nearly hissed it down, unmistakeably agitated. "Stop it, all of you! Carmen is just a very close friend that I  _thought_ I could maybe introduce to you all without all of you losing your minds!"

"If you're not going to pursue her, then I think you've lost  _yours,_ " Hans threw out the side-remark over his shoulder as he descended the stairwell.

"Hey, I have half a mind to do it myself, if he won't," Bernard said, looking his baby brother dead in the eye as he did. Roderich was too exasperated to even speak - he was left on the stairwell fuming, fumbling to clean off the fog from his glasses.

Hans turned around to see the display and pointed up. "Ooooh! Watch it, Bernard," he teased, "Roddli's starting to steam!" The pair started to laugh obnoxiously up at the agitated mess who was only getting redder in the face.

Bernard took a moment to catch his breath from busting up and rolled his eyes up at Roderich. The boy needed to learn how to pursue good things when he saw them, and if he had something to say, he needed to learn how to say it. Leaning on the bottom of the banister, Bernard looked coyly up at his brother and spoke sarcastically. " _Sure. Friend. Right._  So if she  _is_  just a friend, would you mind if I asked her out?"

Roderich's eyes widened in shock after hearing the statement and his jaw drooped, which elicited more side-slapping laughter from his brothers. "Look at him!" Bernard's voice was now at a high-pitched squealing sound rivaling that of little Roddli. "He can't even speak!"

"He's plotting to kill you right now," Hans directed the comment at Bernard, all the while not taking his eyes off of Roderich, in case the boy decided to launch himself at the pair from above. He wouldn't completely put it past him. "You can see it in his eyes."

"I might kill you first, if you keep picking at him over this girl!" Mutti harangued the pair as she entered in from the kitchen. "How many times have you two had ladies over and Roddli has behaved the way you did with Carmen tonight?"

"Never!" Hans practically laughed it out, as if the question was too ridiculous. "We were starting to think he was gay!"

Rod was responsive again, lashing out the rebuttle before thinking. "And what would be so wrong with that, if I were?"

Before Roderich could let the fear seep in at what he had just said, Herr Edelstein immediately responded, book down on the end table. "Nothing," he stated firmly. "Nothing would be wrong with that at all."

Suddenly, Roderich was in a spotlight he wasn't ready to be in, while the rest of his family observed him expectantly. "... Are you?" Bernard asked him, surprisingly in earnest.

Gripping at his hair, Roderich had little time or patience at that moment to explain the concept of bisexuality to his family. Releasing a sharp breath from his nose along with his hair. He spoke temperedly, doing his best to keep his voice down, "I bring home who I bring home. You got it?" Roderich didn't even wait to see them nod - he just stomped up to his room.

After a moment of silence, Hans called innocently up the stairwell. "So did you bring her ho-"

He was greeted with a loud, aggravated, "GENAU!" from upstairs and a slam of a door. Hans bit his hand, trying not to break up again. Their baby brother was way too serious for his own good.


	23. The Boss Deals with Mutiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early October, 1991, Salzburg, Austria.  
> Friday evening.
> 
> Carmen is trying to keep her insecurities and feelings in check on her own, but her friends have some different ideas on how she could spend her time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: body issues and alcohol mentions again

 

Although the final hour was generally a lazy one at the studio, save some cleanup duties, Carmen couldn't bring herself to break for her assignments like she normally would. Her readings for that restitution course horrified her too much to sit through, and she was in no place currently to brave them before walking back to campus. She was thankful and then also not for finding versions of her books in Italian – she had a better shot at understanding her course materials and their context, but she wasn't sure she wanted to.

After assisting with a few of the partnered classes, she noticed a pattern of her experience in the past month or so of working there. She was continually being hit on by some of the older patrons, or being generally disregarded for not being the instructor. Worst of all, she felt she wasn't being taken seriously - from her appearance, to her broken German, to her lisp. So on the opposite end of being in a spotlight she hated for some, she felt invisible to others.

She had to shake it off – it wasn't as if any of this treatment was new, but she didn't like to think on it – on being considered an object. She tried to fix her funk in the only way she knew could work. While in one of the rooms by herself, she pulled out a CD from her bag and played it out of the stereo. She still felt stiff from the cold air in the space, but her stiffness melted away as she focused on the lyrics and surrendered to the rhythms. The music reached her soul, and did at least something to begin to quell the sense of homesickness she harbored in her exhaustion.

While she did not regret leaving home or coming to Salzburg and meeting all of her new friends, the isolation had slowly gotten to Carmen. She felt she probably should call home, to see if that might fix anything, but her biggest concern was if she'd be emotionally ready to do so. If she broke down on the phone, she thought she would scare her parents into thinking she was in trouble and they would come try to get their little Carmencita after only a month or so of being away. No, no - she was not going to let them think of her as a helpless old maid, and she certainly didn't want to cause anyone any trouble - especially not them. 

Carmen found she couldn't keep up with all of the little nitpicks that formed in her head - nitpicks she hadn't thought much about before. The criticisms just kept popping up: She was too nice - she was being a pushover with all of those people. But maybe she risked losing people, in and outside of the studio, if she addressed her grievances. Maybe she lacked presence - the  _right_  kind of presence that the professionals around her had. 

She knew she wasn't like them. She lacked their discipline - the discipline to be dainty and graceful as well as powerful - something that seemed so basic. She felt she could command an entire room when her feet struck the earth, but she wasn't sure what else she could command by balancing herself on twinkling toes, like her coworkers, or Daniel, and the other dancers at the conservatory. 

Whatever - discipline could be learned, and she was there to learn. She could learn to gracefully balance her wider hips, her thicker legs, her noticeable rear. Daniel wasn't necessarily a skinny mini, either. But Dan was tall - he had an excuse. She... had some growing to do. But would it take too long for her than others in her position? Why was she putting a timer on it in the first place? How would she even start? Did she need to slim down first? Was that why she felt glossed over in the studio? No, what was she thinking? She wasn't out of shape - she just wasn't... the right shape.

At that last thought Carmen stopped dancing for a moment, looking over at her reflection in the mirror on the wall. She stopped herself from observing her lower half and looked the woman across from her dead in the eye. All of these rushing thoughts were nothing more than excuses, and she was done paying them any mind.

"No más de esa tontería."

She turned around and closed her eyes, trying to get lost in the music again. Carmen felt a nervous laugh bubble from her once a thought arose that actually stuck to her and caused her to hessitate and make her stomach turn: she had spent so many years grounded in Seville, continually pushing herself to do better and to be better and forge her own path, that once she'd left home the challenges piled on before she thought to stretch her wings and fly.

The dancer paused and took a deep breath - she'd admit it to herself: these were the worries of a silly young girl and not worth the time of the professional she planned to be. She'd have to start practicing for auditions anyway, and she was at a conservatory now - even if she failed, it wasn't the end of the world. She'd learn for other auditions for other conservatories. She could always go to another, if things didn't work out in Salzburg ... 

A hitch had formed in Carmen's throat at the last thought that she couldn't fully explain, but she forced herself to move again until the chatter of her mind would blend into the background of the music and become part of her story in motion. No matter what she had felt, she could dance it out of her system and move on. It was strange though - could it really work if dancing was making her head spin? Was there more on the line? It didn't matter - she was lost again in her movement. 

Carmen was lost, that is, until a screetching but surprisingly welcome noise broke her concentration - whoops and hollers from an excitable Julia. Carmen nearly exploded with joy and opened her eyes to see Julia and Maryann, who had come from what felt like out of nowhere, cheering and praising her moves. Almost instantly, Carmen waved for the pair to join her on the floor, which turned into a swinging circle. The series of worries Carmen worried would grip her mind again remained silent once she grasped their hands and swung her hips. The relief was even enough for her to start lip-syncing to the music, engrossed in a joy she missed. 

Their presence in the studio with her was almost dreamlike. How did they know she'd be here? With the next repeat of the chorus, she thought she had her answer - Daniel slipped his way into their circle as well and played with Carmen's footwork. Her nose crinkled with her smile as she ricocheted her toes and heels and spun herself when faced with him. Carmen fed off the lively, vibrant energy of her friends and could have lost herself in the welcoming warmth of that circle.  

Carmen applauded the group as soon as the song resolved, giving them each a tight hug and speaking jovially through an elated smile. "What are you doing here?! Not that I mind at all, but I thought you were all so busy and tired! I didn't think you'd have time to visit me."

"We don't," Daniel snickered. "This isn't a visit."

"Surprise!" Julchen exclaimed. "This is a kidnapping! You're coming with us!"

"Well," Daniel corrected in a calmer tone, "once the place closes up, you're coming with us."

"Aww," Carmen gushed. They really were sweet, but if they were looking to have a night out she wasn't in the mood. "Gracias, amigos, but I don't I have the energy to party right now." 

"Bon. Neither do we," Maryann addressed it bluntly. "My parents sent me wine from one of the vineyards. We planned to have it on opening night, but I wouldn't mind partaking in some of it now."  

Carmen's face drooped slightly at the mention of wine and she shook her head. "Oh, lo siento, Maryann. I don't drink."

"Well, do you drink soda?" Julia rebuttled, looking for some way to coax her out. "If you're set on not drinking, I promise I won't mix anything into it."

Carmen's eyes widened again, but with all the impish desire of a child this time. "¿Soda?... ¿Gaseosa?" she nearly squeaked it out after downplaying a small smack of her tongue. She'd been caught. "It... has been a while." Years, really, and the last time she had some she couldn't really control her energy. Then again, a sugar-high Carmen with jittery feet was more much more pleasant to handle than a drunken Carmen who might swing more than her hips. 

The smacks and discrete swallows coming from Carmen had Julia and Maryann grinning like cheshire cats. Maryann went right in, "I heard that. The dusty sound of a dry well. My darling, it's time to live a little, in whatever spirits!" The Parisian continued on in a quieter tone. "Believe me - I need this night, too. Julia finally got her way."

Carmen's voice rose in surprise, glancing back at a jumpy Julia. "You don't mean-"

"Oh ja, Baby!" The technician wiggled into a dorky victory dance, in a sing-songy voice as she bragged. "Flame projectors in the barricades! I get to tech  _Les Mis_  with fire!"

"And Daniel and I get to work around the fire. How wonderful for us." Maryann droned, somewhat in good humor but mostly in recognizing her own exhaustion.

"Regardless of the reason," Daniel continued, "we're unwinding from a long week, and the four of us want you in on it. Nothing too crazy." 

"The four of you?" Carmen teased Daniel, trying to mimic the tone of a certain cocky Hungarian. "Who have you all been hiding?"

"Oh," Julia butted in, throwing a shoulder around Carmen to turn her toward the door. "Just a little birdie who brought us here."

Carmen shouldn't have been surprised to see Roderich observing the group from the doorway. She took a moment to absorb the image of him standing there in that familiar slouch and crossed arms, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose to hide that soft, boyish smile and the glow on his cheeks. He wasn't going to gush any more than everyone else over her apparent skill - it seemed silly to tell her something she already knew. 

Carmen tilted her head back and approached her former student with a brazen gleam in her smile and squint in her eye. "Maryann, did he really lead you all here?" she challenged their claim, while waiting for Roderich to squirm under her gaze.   

To her diminishing disappointment, Roderich hummed and straightened his posture, widening his grin, even at Maryann's words. Dan and Julia glanced over to each other - these two were so obvious. 

"You _know_ he didn't," the Parisian casually rested her arm on Carmen's shoulder, calling Roderich out through a chortle - something that usually would have been a leveling remark, if it weren't followed by a small defense. "However, coming here to get you  _was_  his suggestion, so I suppose you  _could_  claim that he did." 

Her playfully challenging demeanor briefly cracked into something sweeter and more demure and she felt a glow dust her own cheeks. Carmen, however, had time to rebound from the falter when Julia wrapped an arm around her stepbrother, craning him down to tousle his hair.

"Besides," she snickered, "you  _know_  it's bad when  _he's_  the one suggesting doing anything social!"

After unraveling from Julia's grasp and readjusting anything his sister jostled out of place, Roderich didn't feel the urge to rebuttle after catching eyes with Carmen again.

"You could have just asked me, you know," Carmen told him with a bit of snark. "I would have said yes."

"So is this you saying  _no_?" Rod sassed down to her. He knew how to be difficult, too.  

Carmen scoffed through her smile. "What does it matter, if you're kidnapping me?"

Rod sighed, slouched, and rolled his eyes - all the while maintaining that smirk. "Well, then, do I have your permission?"

After pouting for a moment, feigning thought, she turned up to him and adjusted his collar. "Fine. You have my  _permission_  to kidnap me. But only after I gather my things and close up."

Julia gave Carmen a slap on the back, and she and Maryann led her out the door. "Oh, bon! I love it! We are getting so drunk!"

"¡Espera!" Carmen exclaimed, before twisting herself out of the girls grasp and scrambling for her things. Based on how quickly she moved, Julia and Maryann started to realise how much Carmen really needed to let loose and prided themselves.

Before they were about to help her gather her things, Daniel held them back to watch. Rod had jumped into helping before anyone else - it needed to be seen to be believed. At least, Roderich was tidying the CDs and putting the stereo back in order. Upon looking up while gathering her books sitting on a nearby stool, Carmen saw Roderich had ejected her CD and was placing it back in its case. 

"¡Oh, bien! ¡Casi lo había olvidado!" She cried as she reached for it, snatching it away and placing it gingerly into her bag. "Gracias. I would have been heartbroken if I lost it."

Roderich's response was simple - smile and nod. However, he wasn't doing much to hide the tender gleam in his eyes upon remembering her happily in motion a short while ago. "I thought it might be important to you." 

Maryann cleared her throat to remind them they had a crowd waiting for them. Julia and Dan didn't mind being an audience, and it was slowly starting to seem like Maryann wasn't caring so much either. "Come, mon chéri!" the Parisian called to her, "Your soda awaits!"


	24. The Mutiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early October, 1991, Salzburg, Austria.  
> Later that Friday evening, approaching Saturday morning.
> 
> A small get-together reveals bits and pieces of everyone's damage and causes Carmen to confront some of her demons anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: alchohol, drinking game mention, DDR mentions, character death mentions.  
> (Please drink responsibly, kiddos!)

 

The evening seemed to happen in a blur. The group first started with a round of Kings - simple enough. After the third round or so, the effects of the wine became much more apparent. Now, Carmen certainly was not new to seeing people under the influence - she performed at bars nearly every weekend, and it was always interesting to see what liquor brought out of people.

Julia somehow became quieter - a magnificent feat. At first, Carmen thought maybe Julia was a sleepy drunk. She thought so, that is, until Julia started to sound like how Carmen allegedly sounded when she spoke in her sleep, except with added paranoia. No, Daniel was the sleepy drunk. A happy, sleepy drunk, at the very least. He was continually cuddled up behind Julia, murmuring things to her in an attempt to calm her from the conspiracies she would occasionally mutter. Any time Julia would mention something in relation to the DDR - whatever that was - Dan would assure her she was far gone from the DDR and he's taken care of every surveillance thing she would bring up. Julia's paranoia was peculiar - sometimes it was hard to tell if she was joking or being serious in her delivery. Most of it was fairly unsettling either way, but especially the casual acceptance of the horrible concepts leaving the East German's mouth - from Julia and from the other guests.

Carmen couldn't pay attention to Julia for too long, and she didn't feel the immediate need as Daniel was handling her fine. Besides, Maryann's transformation was much more jarring. Carmen had a hunch she would be an emotional drunk, but she wasn't ready for how much of a switch she was experiencing. Maryann's flushed face had a large, glowing grin on it as she gushed on about all of her friends and how much she loved each and every one of them. She was sitting across the floor from Julia and fawning all over her in a strange array of slurred speech bizarrely stripped of pretense.

"You know what I love most about you, Julia?" She mused, "I'll tell you what I love most about you - I love your- hic!... I love- hic!... Oh dieu, I just... I just love _you_! You you - hic - you, because you are sooooo awesooooome!" The Parisian emphasized her point with a wiggling finger. Carmen thought maybe it was a good thing Maryann hadn't gotten touchy with Julia - Carmen wasn't sure if the East German would snap. Then again, Julia didn't seem to mind Daniel playing gingerly with her silvery whisps of hair, like he would start to braid them at any moment.

Maryann staggered on her knees as she slurred on, laughing a joyous laugh more fitting of the awesome one. Her glassy eyes were hilariously bright, "I love you so much, you awesome thing! You are my best friend on this whole godforsaken campus! All of you are! My best friends, you beautiful people! You're so beautiful! And I can never bring myself to blubber on like this over how I feel because I am so very guarded."

"You're right to be guarded," Julia murmured, hunched over and looking like she was zoning out into the distance. "The DDR might find out about your loved ones and take them away, if you cross them."

"Ne, ne." Daniel cooed, snuggling her closer into his stomach and stroking her hair gently. "The DDR won't get to any of us. That's all over now."

Julia turned her head back to look at him, with worry in her eyes. "Are you sure?" She inquired. "What about the cameras in the hallways?"

"That's not the DDR," Dan responded with a shake of his head and a soothing brush of his hands up and down her arms. His voice was the calmest Carmen had ever heard it. "That's campus security - they'll protect you. And if they don't and the remnants of the DDR try anything, then they will have to go through me."

Julia turned around fully and shoved her face squarely into Daniel's chest. Carmen wasn't sure if this was Julia hiding herself or Julia just getting tired and sluggish.

"Don't fight them," she murmured, similar to that of a child who didn't want to openly admit to their fear. "I don't want to see you get killed, too."

Daniel wrapped Julia up into a comforting hug and kissed her forehead. He sounded too casual to Carmen, and she wondered if they had this conversation before. "I'd kill them all for Greta and for you, if I had to."

"I would tear them limb from limb for you and little Greta and Monika, too." Maryann added with a more serious, dramatic tone than before. "Listen to me, Julia." The Parisian put down her glass and leaned over on her hands and knees to face Julia squarely, reaching out a gentle hand to Julia's shoulder for support. "This is the real me talking - the Maryann Bonnefoy that can only be reached with enough wine to wash away all of my cynicisms. I would die for you and kill for you, mon ami. You don't even realize. You have been the knight to my queen, and so I would reverse that for you if I had to in a heartbeat - you are all that. To me. I barely have the words to go on - I think this calls for more wine."

"Oh, no," Roderich interjected somewhat patronizingly, withholding the wine bottle from the group. He was sitting on Julia's bed, mostly so no one who had clearly had too much could reach him. Carmen couldn't completely get a good read on drunk Roderich - probably because he wasn't drunk. "I think you've had just about enough wine for tonight, your majesty."

"Oh, please, Roddli," Maryann whined with a sickeningly sweet, squeaky quality in her voice to match her pout. "This is nothing! It's whatever! I'm just a little bit tipsy." She emphasized with a pronounced pinch of her fingers.

Roderich bit his lip to keep from laughing at her or saying anything that might upset her. His wide grin, however, nearly gave him away in his imitation of her cutesy voice. "You mean you're just a little too drunkie, dearie."

The Parisian's sweet, nasal simper lowered into a trembling pout. Her misty eyes had Roderich concerned for a split second he'd done it this time. Roderich looked over to Carmen, who was gasping a moment at the emotional display and preparing to swoop in to hug her self-designated big sister.

Their major concern, however, was not as bad as they thought. Maryann's sigh almost sounded elated as she spoke softly, "Always so honest when it matters. And that is part of what I love about you." Maryann crawled her way over toward Roderich and continued on in her slurred, flamboyant way while holding onto one of the legs of the bed. "I don't tell you this enough - there's something about you that is so very special. It's... it's like... You have a certain-"

"Je-ne-sais-quoi?" He asked, brow raised in his deadpan.

Maryann's eyes lit up at the phrase, while Carmen observed him in confusion - she was under the impression he didn't know French, and suddenly it seemed like a third language coming from him. "Oh! Ma langue! You say it like a true Parisian!"

"I know," he droned on caustically but in good humor. "You've told me this before, many times, while under the influence of wine. I've had plenty of practice."

"Ugh!" Maryann's interjection was louder than anyone thought. Carmen wondered if Maryann might have been in pain by the sound of it and by the way she rolled onto the floor. "Your honesty! Oh, how I love it! Only a true friend would say something like that to me around here. Something so controversial and yet so brave!" She rolled herself up to continue, using the banister for support and trying to establish eye contact, "But really, I mean it. Roderich, hey. Hey." She snapped her fingers at him as she called him. "Rod - hic - Roderich. Look at me. This is really me talking-"

"Maryann, amiga," Carmen finally interjected, gently tapping Maryann's shoulders, "would you maybe like some water?"

"Oh! Bonjour, Carmen! My best friend with the pretty name and all the sweetness and innocence of this dreadful world!" She exclaimed, while flinging her arms onto Carmen and laughing as obnoxiously as a sober Julia. The Parisian pulled away after a brief moment and attempted to steady herself and look at her friend. "Mon Chéri, mon - hic - Carmen. Carmencita, could never be sweetah, banana-fanna-fo-fita, look at me. Both of you, look at me."

"Both of us, amiga?" Carmen giggled, trying to avoid the smell of alcohol on Maryann's breath.

"Ouais! vous deux Carmen! Regarde moi. If you two learn nothing from your big sister Maryann, then learn this - learn that you need to keep your sentimentality. You need to. You understand me?"

Carmen nodded, trying very hard to contain yourself. As far as anyone observing her knew, Carmen's shaking was just her trying not to laugh, but the Parisian had struck something inside as she rambled on, "I know I pick at you for it because I say sentimentality is overrated and it is drivel and it is pedestrian - it's not! Well, it is all of those things, but that is not all that it is!"

"Uh oh," Dan chuckled as Julia lifted her head up to observe her friends. "Back on the soapbox."

"Look at all of these damaged people, mon petit. Go on, look around. Believe me - this room is full of damaged people, but you see how we play it off so well, non? We make it look so stylish. Like art. Like it was meant to be. Look at how we flock to each other in our time of need, how we hold to each other and take care of each other. It's beautiful, non? It is a need, mon cher. I will never admit it when I am sober, but I thrive on such sentimentalities. Is it not what life is for? And I worry when you are so very far from home not having met that need on your own. It is a tragedy, to lose that naïveté. To not feel that thrill of life, that comradery, that sentiment. Both of you, please, do yourselves a favor and stay youthful forever, in here." Maryann finished her statement by placing a hand to her chest and attempting to place it on Carmen's shoulder (mostly for additional leverage).

Carmen could barely speak at the lump the Parisian's words had inevitably formed in her throat. All Carmen could do was keep shivering from the excess sugar and hope maybe it could mask her own trembling bottom lip. The room had fallen silent, and Carmen felt the eyes of the world on her. Her itching discomfort caused the newcomer to rise to her feet and make for the door.

"Perdón, I...," she sighed in frustration as she rushed out the door. Their eyes followed her as she rushed out, and while they all had the inclination to follow her on foot, only one of them was sober enough to not inevitably crash.

"Keep the door unlocked and wait here," Roderich said as he rushed out, wine bottle in hand, "I'll be back."

"Hey! Revenez ici avec mon vin!"

* * *

Upon following the faint echo of the fast-paced clicking of familiar heels and a squeak of the stairwell door, Roderich had an idea of where to go. Turning the corner, he caught a glimpse of a delicate hand with ruby red nail polish grip the door handle as it slammed behind her. Carmen's world was not quiet, even within the silence back in Maryann and Julia's room. She berated herself as she huffed up those stairs. She couldn't just give herself even a little peace of mind, something where she didn't have to think or worry. Her worry had only worsened, and the echo in the stairwell seemed twice as loud the more she dwelled on it.

Finally, she had reached the roof and nearly flung the exit open to step out into the chilly, quiet air that seemed like it gave her kilometers of space. The lights from the city around her seemed dimmer through the clouds, and she stood observing it for a while, hoping the blur was from the mist in the air and not the tears threatening to form in her eyes. She tugged at her sweater as she shivered, but she rushed around startled to hear the door open and close abruptly again. She sighed and slumped her shoulders upon seeing Roderich in view from the stairwell, hunched over and winded from the climb. She tried to curb her anger -  _Tonto. Why did he have to tire himself out climbing those stairs?_ She felt frozen in place, caught in her whirlwind, and anchored herself down to sit.

"Carmen, what-" he panted, "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

She hessitated as she spoke over her shoulder, tempering her voice so it wouldn't shake either. "I... I just needed some air, okay?"

Roderich's eyes widened in concern as he took in the shivering mess he saw. The assuring smile she tried to crack seemed to wiggle across her face. Carmen turned her back to him again upon noticing the change and hugged her knees to her face.

Rod placed the bottle on the ground and slowly emerged through the doorway, hoping his words wouldn't harm her pride. He knelt beside her and watched the clouds cross over the sky. He spoke gently, being careful not to prick at her pride: "Maryann is... a very moving poet when she's had a few drinks, wouldn't you say?"

A solemn chuckle bubbled up through Carmen's back as she kept looking outward. She grimaced and mumbled under her breath - a thought she assumed she had kept in as she hid her face. "Maldita sea, soy una cobarde."

"Cobarde?" Roderich inquired, thinking maybe his horrid pronunciation might stir some laugh out of her, but even if it stirred nothing Roderich vaguely remembered learning the word and hardly noticed Carmen grip her hair in frustration beside him.

"Cobarde," he mumbled, "Ich erinnere das Wort. Das war, das war... Feigling... Coward?" he turned to her, clamping down his irritation but letting his surprise remain apparent, "You? A coward? Seriously?"

The lady peeked her eyes up to glare at him as she growled her response out. "I am." Upon feeling her vision blur, she hugged her knees in tighter to hide her face again. "I'm a goddam coward," she sulked.

"Now you listen here," Roderich soothed sternly, now facing in front of her and placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but. You. Are not. A coward. It takes one to know one, and you are most definitely not a coward. You do too many crazy things to even be considered one. And, if you are, then I certainly wish I was the kind of coward you are."

Carmen growled again, pushing his hands off of her. "Gah! No ent-" she sighed and dropped her knees, "you don't understand. You're at least a smart coward."

"Well, you're not stupid, either," Roderich huffed, realising his patience was thin. "I don't care what anyone says - I don't care if you say those things, because they aren't true. Second-"

"I know! Okay?" she asserted with a raised hand to silence him. She quickly returned it down to grip her leg when she felt it shaking. Taking a moment to steady her breath and refrain from yelling at her friend, she explained herself. "I know I'm not. I'm not saying I'm stupid. I'm saying I'm a  _stupid coward_."

Her explanation only left Roderich confused above all else. "...I'm afraid I don't understand."

She leaned over her crossed legs as she ranted. "I don't know how to be smart about being a coward. I wish I did. It would save me so much trouble."

"Oh sure, it would save you trouble," Roderich continued on, seating himself beside her while looking out into the sky, "But you would do much less of the crazy things you already do, if you would still do them at all... What kind of life is that for anyone, really?"

"I can't let myself think that way anymore," she lamented with her head in her hands. Rod looked up from the ground to see her, noticing tears slip. "What does all of that fun matter if it means I have to let it all go?"

At this moment, Roderich knelt in front of her again and lifted her chin up. Everything about him intensified with what Carmen could only register as protectiveness. "Did something happen to you? Carmen, are you in trouble?"

"No, no, I'm not in danger," she waved him away - this time she was less aggressive about it. "That's not the point! Rod, do you really think I put serious thought into half of the things I do?"

"So what?" he shrugged. "You're young."

"You're younger than me!" she shouted. "I'm getting to be an old maid back home! That's not an excuse anymore!... If I were smart about all of this, do you think I still would have left home without a solid backup plan?"

"You're talking about the dance program? Listen, those setbacks aren't your fault. They were a mistake. You can audition for the program again. They would gladly accept you."

Upon hearing his attempts at reassurance, she smiled bitterly and shook her head. "You don't know, do you, Sabelotodo?"

He put aside his attempts to be comforting and gave into his easily irked nature for a moment. "What do you mean 'I don't know'? I don't know what?"

Carmen confessed. "I never auditioned last year. I missed the deadline. I sent out the application for admission here anyway, thinking I'd have time to prepare for it or they might just let me in for my resume... I told you I don't think these things through. I just throw myself into things when they happen and hope for the best. But I can't just do that here. Not at this point. I don't want to know what happens if I don't get in. I don't want to know what happens if I'm not good enough."

Roderich sighed, hating to watch this celestial lady fight herself and not having a decent enough response to ease her pain. It seemed any time he tried to build her up, she would tear it back down. He wiped some of the fog off his glasses and noticed the celestial lady beside him wasn't really the ethereal goddess he occasionally allowed himself to believe of her. The smoke and mirrors were revealed, and the woman beside him was just another vulnerable kid overwhelmed with unanswered questions and unwritten stories. She wasn't a deity to praise and abide by with the perfect world view - she was a flawed human being stumbling through life, although she worked to make it look effortless, thoughtless, fearless.

For his own sake, he quietly hoped and prepared to mourn that maybe this reality check would dim the sparks she inspired in his heart.

To his dismay and quiet elation, he was burned by a steady fire that strangely sent a shiver up his spine. 

He was compelled to be realistic - it was the best thing he could provide as consolation. "It doesn't have to be this program. You'll audition to other programs, and you're more than likely to get into at least one of them."

Carmen exhaled sharply and shook her head. She was still mopey and refused to look at him, but she was more open to conversation than before. In fact, this was the most genuinely vulnerable Roderich had likely ever seen her. Even she was willing to drop the confidence charade.

"No, you don't get it. I... I want it to be this program. It scares me, but that's because I know it'll make me better as a dancer. And I want to be my  _best_. But I'm...  _concerned_... that I'll audition and I won't make it, and it... it will make me feel like this has all been a joke. That I'm not a true professional. That I'll let my parents down. That I'll lose whatever friends I have here, and I'll never see them again... it's ridiculous, isn't it?"

"I understand. Why put yourself through that seemingly inevitable heartbreak, if it means you put in all that effort to lose everything? Why make friends you care deeply about if you'll only end up leaving them? Why take the risk, if it will hurt your pride and make you look foolish? Why?... Because you can't help yourself but care either way. Because you know if you don't try, it will haunt you for the rest of your life, like it is haunting you now."

Carmen finally looked at him with her smeared mascara and tear-stained eyes. This time, however, he saw something ignited in them - that unmistakable audacity he remembered from the summer returning and pouring over. "You're right. I have to try. It's the only way I'll know for sure, if I can do this."

"I know you can do this," he affirmed with confidence, "Because you don't have to do this alone."

"You think so?"

"Well, you're certainly not the only one who is invested in you staying here ... Come with me. I'll show you."

* * *

 

Roderich and Carmen returned to the dorm room to find Julia and Maryann braiding Daniel's hair and covered in cosmetics smeared on like warpaint. Upon the sight of Carmen, Julia dropped the braid she was working on and stumbled to hug Carmen in tears. Roderich waited by the doorway to give them all space - the gushing had commenced. 

"Clickity Click!" Julia cried, squeezing Carmen tightly to the point where she was off the ground, "Oh, Clickity, you're safe! Did they hurt you? Oh Gott im Himmel, I thought I'd never see you again or teach you how to breakdance or go to wild parties or on roadtrips or-"

"Julia! Luft!" Carmen squeaked out before Julia dropped her from the ground. 

"Heh. Schuldigung. We were, ah... you had us really worried. We were just about to send out a team to get you back. I didn't want to think... you know. But clearly you're too awesome for Honecker's men! Dan even helped us with our camo." Carmen looked back and tried not to laugh at Daniel, whose face was completely covered in a random assortment of cosmetics. He was just waking up and rolling to his feet.

Carmen had little time to call to him, as Maryann, who had completely forgotten about her missing wine, followed Julia in hugging her little sister and sobbing hysterically, "Oh, mon Carmen! Mon ami! Forgive me! I never meant to drive you away! I never meant to make you sad! I forget sometimes when I'm like this that kind of intimacy is still frightening, and I keep forgetting you've only been my little sister for a little while. I just feel like I've known you for so much longer. Lifetimes, even! Comme avec Julia! Comme les âmes sœurs! Please, you have to listen! C'est le vrai moi qui parle. The real Maryann. What the three of us have is so special, and I cannot scoff at it no matter how hard I try! I don't care if it's pedestrian! I love you all and I need you all and I am not ready to let you leave! I don't know if I ever will be! Oh, please don't hate me! Please don't go away!"

"Por favor, amigos," Carmen backed away and finally looked over to Roderich, who nodded to her in encouragement. "I have something to say. I... I'm not messing around anymore, and... and I need you all now more than ever... I'm... I'm gonna audition for the dance program! I want to stay!" Immediately, Julia and Maryann cheered and cried as loudly as possible while squeezing Carmen between the two of them. 

Daniel had somehow made it to his feet and swooped the girls up in an even bigger hug. "Gratulálok! Végül!"

Upon hearing Carmen's melodious laughter again, Roderich felt that elated fire consume his entire being. In that moment, he knew he would do anything to help her stay and make sure she'd want to, lest he regret it in the end. 

Julia's boisterous voice and jovial smile returned. "You hear that, Honecker!" She bellowed. "The trio is back!"


	25. A Birthday Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday morning, October 26, 1991  
> Salzburg, Austria
> 
> Roderich, the baby of the group, is turning 20, and doesn't want to trouble his friends when their schedules are so busy at the end of October. He soon finds out, however, he's not the only one capable of orchestrating surprises - pre-planned or otherwise.

It wasn't terribly often Roderich had a day to himself. Or, rather, it was difficult to think of a day where he had the house to himself and could actually be there to enjoy it. His parents trusted he wouldn't throw any wild parties while they were at the market. Not that he would really want one for his birthday, anyway. Twenty years old, and he wasn't interested in outings or having any big fuss made over him - all he wanted at this point was a cake (which he knew Vati would "surprise" him with either way) and a Saturday to step away from his musical responsibilities. Lounging snugly on the couch, buried in blankets with a cup of his favorite Viennese blend of coffee, he listened to the wind blow through the trees and peered out the window as much as he could bare to keep his eyes open. He could be content with the colorful, rustling leaves flittering in the wind around against the dim blue of the mountain ranges in the distance as he rested. 

So much had changed in his life, and yet still so much remained the same - especially his self-imposed solitude. True, it had become a choice instead of the simple reality he remembered in years past, but even the solitude he had control over came about through passive assumption. Roderich hated to feel burdensome to anyone he cared for, and so he would impose his own social restrictions to keep from seeming like a bother. Although it would admittedly hurt to starve himself from those interactions. Then again, maybe not as much as having those interactions, if it meant receiving more birthday punches. Maybe he suffered enough social interaction for the day...

For a moment, he nearly laughed at the thought of setting up a party for himself - it didn't seem feasible. Sure, he knew people, but everyone he would consider having around was surely too busy with their own lives. That was the trouble with October. He didn't remember if  _Les Miserables_  had entered technical rehearsals yet, but if so, it would't have surprised him. Either way, he expected Julia and Maryann to be preoccupied. He doubted he could count on Dan to be around as Jean Valjean. Besides, what would he say if he called the man? How would that conversation go?  _Hi, I'm lonely and my parents aren't home?_  

If Dan wasn't at rehearsals, then he was likely at the studio preparing and training Carmen for auditions. Oh, Carmen... he was probably the biggest leach of all around her. This was maybe the one day in a while she'd get a break from seeing him. From lunch, to occasionally sitting in on her training with Dan, Carmen might have been seeing more of him than she wanted. Ever since she decided to audition for the dance program, she had been hyper-focused on preparing and pushing through her studies - rightfully so, really. It was thrilling to witness, in that her determination was both inspiring and terrifying. Then again, how thrilling could the opposite be in comparison and how selfish was Rod being in wanting to see her so badly? 

Maybe she needed time away to recharge - that wouldn't have been too selfish a thing to suggest. But when would he have done that - while she was continually squatting on her toes? When she was leaping through the air like she might start to fly? While she was supporting her weight on her hands and experimenting with those breakdancing moves Julia would do? How could he tell her to stop when she was so admirably and frighteningly fixated on pushing forward? She lived through dance - what if this movement was her way to recharge? How dare he think to pull her away from that? 

He sighed solemnly as he pressed himself deeper int the cushions, trying to absorb himself in the quiet. It was his ultimate comfort, no matter what his personal issue - quiet. It would always be there for him, even if he couldn't commit himself as fervently to his own improvement as a performer. The serenity of the moment almost allowed him to forget all of those pesky worries he tried desperately to never address. Nearly forgotten were his conducting concerns, the pressure to improve and expand, his unnerving dissatisfations and irritations, anything that made his heart race...

Nearly.

The moment was shattered by the backdoor slamming and a loud, disembodied voice crashing into his eardrum: "Alles Gute zum Gebuuuurtstag, Brohaaaaa!" Julia sauntered in through the kitchen after hearing the sound of a muffled and yet piercing groan from under the blankets.

"And how is our little man?" she simpered, leaning on the doorframe to see him rise from the comforters like a lazy zombie.

"Don't you ever tire of this?" he grumbled, rubbing his eyes and unraveling his limbs from the blankets to discretely reveal the ice packs on his arms. Julia, however, wasn't paying attention. 

"What?" she teased, making her way over to tousle his hair and rough him up a bit more once his glasses were on, "Wishing you a happy birthday? I only do it once a year! Why would I get tired with it?" 

Knowing little else he could do to combat her in this state, he rolled his eyes and took all of her torment. Well, almost all of her torments. The East German smiled mischeiviously and her eyes glowed, staring down at his newly exposed limbs and cracking her knuckles. "It's only once a year I get to-"

"Don't you dare!" Rod alertly snapped and glared at her, defensively hugging his arms out of reach of her.

Upon registering her forlorn chuckle, Rod relaxed again and amended his tone. He needed better ways to express gratitude that matched her way of expressing affection - perhaps their constant enigma. "Hans and Bernard already covered it this morning," he muttered, rubbing the bruises. 

Julia was back again to cackling at her regular volume, easily filling the rest of the house and possibly triggering a headache for the birthday boy. "You really thought  _that_  was going to be  _my_  gift?" she asked, feigning innocence.

He was now completely possessed by his own sarcasm, from the deadpanned expression on his face observing her, to the acidic tone of his voice. "Well,  _duh_."

Julia's only response was to smile widely - widely enough that she seemed even more suspicious and Roderich was suddenly more concerned she would do something much worse. His patience was wearing thin, as he was in no mood to play games. "Well, be quick with it, for Heaven's sake! You don't have all day!" 

She snickered as she peered over her shoulder. "Well, you heard him! He asked for it!" In that moment, Maryann and Carmen rounded the corner with a small, lopsided cake, jovially playing "Happy Birthday" with kazoos, joined in by Julia, who had somehow hidden her own.

They were easily the worst musical trio Roderich ever had the pleasure of hearing. Even their enthusiasm couldn't save them. In fact, it probably made them sound worse. Rod, however, was much too stunned to interrupt the trainwreck. He sat there, gawking, even as Carmen, who was carrying the lopsided monstrosity, placed it on the coffee table and as Maryann took a picture, flung some glitter in the air, and all three obnoxiously sounded their kazoos like party favors in bizarre triumph.

Having made cakes in a bakery for a few years, he was certain that this was by far the ugliest one he'd seen in a while - a clear case of too many cooks in the kitchen. It was as if they iced it from opposite sides of the room, fighting over its look. From Maryann's obscure fruit toppings, to Julia's jagged finishing with more colors any human being could reasonably digest visually. And whoever wrote the inscription on the top had clearly iced words maybe once in their life, if at all. He could only guess it was meant to say "Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag", but even then he couldn't be sure. The look of it made him wonder if it were a mouth-sore as well as an eyesore, but the fact of the matter still remained... this cake could not have been anything other than homemade. Something about that thought stifled any snide remarks he would otherwise make. 

This trio already had a clue as to how dramatic this boy could be, but he responded as if he barely knew them - back to the unreadable stoicism he absentmindedly reserved for most everyone else. His seeming lack of response caused them to tone down their tooting kazoos. He looked pained - they thought from the noise - but he wasn't complaining. It was off-putting, to say the least. 

After a moment or so, he coughed and spoke shyly. "You, um," he cleared his throat, "y-you baked this for me?"

Maryann scoffed, "You think I would actually let Julia pay money for a cake like this?"

Julia responded to the remark with a less than gentle nudge. "I mean," Maryann continued, attempting to capture her whimsy, "Do you think that just any artist would create such a statement, such a labor of love, under commission?"

Roderich remained silent, staring between the gift and the girls. The suspicious glint in his eye caught Julia's attention, thinking she got the picture. "Specs, you think if we were going to prank you with a cake, that we'd have it look  _this_  bad?"

Realising maybe he'd offended the group, Roderich tilted his head to the side and tried to give it a fair compliment. "It doesn't look...  _that_  bad..." he hessitated, doing his best to not show how choked up he really was. "Who... who, erm-"

"Blame the little sister," Maryann cocked her head back to Carmen, who couldn't hide the teeth in her smile as she looked to the floor. "It was her idea."

Whatever introspection Rod was in before, he was clearly out of it now, and he addressed Carmen less shyly. "You know I live with bakers, right?" 

"Do you like it?" she asked sweetly, shyly biting her lip. Maybe nervously, even. Oh, God... this was a sincere effort. She actually cared what he thought of it. 

He couldn't let himself get too emotionally wrapped up in the sentiment of it all just yet, lest he be forced to eat his words, but he couldn't completely hide how moved he was, no matter how much he tried. The small cracks in his voice would always give him away, as well as the fog on his glasses. "... you all really did make this... for me? No joke?"

Carmen paused before she answered.

"It's the best we could do... The birthday boy deserves a cake..." That smile she wore faltered slightly when she spoke, even though it remained. It was strange to see her behave so shyly after seeing her push herself past her limits so many times recently. And here he was, back to worrying. Had he made her doubt her idea? Had he hurt her feelings?

That concern must have done something good, because he heard the crowd mew over a mist forming in his eyes and more apparently fogging up his glasses. "Oh... oh, no, you shouldn't have, really."

"Why don't you wait to say that until  _after_  you've had a piece?" Julia snickered, momentarily breaking the sweetness of the moment.  

"I was getting to that part!" he snapped up at her before switching back. "But really, you didn't have to go through all of this trouble. Vati probably made a cake for me anyway."

At the mention of the last comment, Julia started to snicker, which started to escalate almost maniacally. "Who do you think gave us access to a kitchen?"

Rod's eyes widened absorbing two pieces of information: 1. This explained why Hans and Bernard claimed an arm this morning to each give him their own 20 punches rather than "mercifully" share and alternate on one, if they were the ones left to clean, and 2. This was the only cake he was getting, that these three took time out of their busy schedules to make for him. If he didn't eat it, everything else that day (at least) would taste like guilt. 

He rose to his feet and moved toward the kitchen, gesturing to the rest of the room "... well, at least make yourselves comfortable and let me make you some coffee, so you can enjoy it with me. I have far too many questions about this, erm... work of art."

* * *

The rest of the day was really only eventful in conversation and probably in Carmen's insistence that Roderich take the first bite of the cake without using utensils. A cake to the face from Julia and some coffee and chit-chat later, and the group was pretty much as caught up as they felt they could be. Rod now knew about the tense baking session in his father's kitchen, which involved a flour and icing fight that his brothers somehow filmed. Unfortunatly, he wouldn't get to see the footage - Maryann had broken Bernard's camera after discovering them and chasing them down with a rolling pin. Julia remembered the Parisian howling something in French about how gentlemen ask permission to put their cameras in room corners. Again, this cake explained so much about his morning.

Beyond that, Julia and Maryann were butting heads less as they figured out how to use flames and flame-retardant fabric to their advantage for period costumes, which was great, because technical rehearsals for  _Les Miserables_  would soon be underway. Unfortunately, the pair couldn't stick around for too long, with more production concerns on their plate they would have otherwise addressed had it not been for the mess in the bakery the night before.

Daniel regretted he couldn't be there, but no one would fault him for it - everyone was sure his Jean Valjean would be incredible when they saw him on opening night. A performance like his never came easy. None of his work ever really came easy, as far as Carmen could tell.

Roderich was trying not to get bummed out over his conducting class that he would have otherwise been practicing for, if his limbs weren't so sore. He worried he still lacked a commanding presence to lead an orchestra, which Carmen mentioned she would be willing to give him pointers on. Carmen was quietly thankful for her day off from training, but she wouldn't say much else with everyone around. Or eat any of the cake, which seemed to bother Roderich more than its presentation, like the trio originally feared it would.

"I don't believe you. You won't have  _any_  of the cake you made for me?" Roderich inquired. He was just as bundled as he was earlier in the day, but he at least now had company across from him on the sofa, as well as coffee and cake on the side table. "I assure you it tastes fine, if that's what you're worried about. Really, it's quite lovely."

"No, it's nothing like that," she placated him, looking down slightly as she went on. She was buried so snugly in blankets on the other side of the sofa that she looked like a chilly caterpillar in a cocoon. "It's just that I probably shouldn't have any," she admitted shyly.

"Is Daniel making you do this?" he asked with slight irritation, pointing his fork at her before taking another bite, "Because if so, he'd better be ready to get either a stern talking to or to kick my ass, if I have anything to say about it."

She shook her head and smiled, half wondering if maybe the sugar was making him sillier. "Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?" She teased. "You kick his ass?"

He almost interrupted her with how quickly he answered: "You and I both know the truth of it. I'm at least honest about it."

"Okay, okay" she relented. "Well, lucky for  _him_ , it's not his idea. It's mine. If I want to be my best for this audition, then I need to be careful of what I eat. Besides, if he did place this on me, I think I can handle him myself," she smirked, flexing her arm and patting her bicep. They certainly were more pronounced, when he actually thought about them. It could be that he hadn't seen them in a few months, but either way she wasn't kidding about wanting to be in tip-top shape.

"Oh my," he observed, trying not to sound like he was fawning again, "I'm glad I didn't get birthday punches from you. It looks like they would have hurt."

"Nah, I would never punch you, Sabelotodo," she waved him off, "Unless it was like this," and she peppered his shoulder with tiny, light jabs matched with whispered "pows" before she released one of those nose-krinkling giggles at his feigned flinches and cries of submission. "Besides," she sighed, leaning back smugly, "I only save actual hitting for people who deserve it. You know that."

Suddenly, she stretched her arms above her in a yawn and hid them under the blankets in an abrupt shiver, causing her to readjust her position again for warmth. The squeak of her movement caused Roderich to burst into a smile. "Athleticism doesn't quite help to combat the cold, I see," he chuckled, slipping another bite of cake into his mouth. "Now I don't feel so bad about it."

Carmen's only response was to burrow deeper into the covers and mutter a whiny "Cállate".

Roderich wasn't ready to relent just yet, as he continued on teasing with his suggestions and she kept burrowing further into the comforters and whining - possibly getting sleepy. "You know, coffee or cake might do you some good, if you're looking to stay warm, or even awake, for that matter. I can't give you  _all_  of the blankets in this house."

"Hnnnn. Solo déjame relajarse," she groaned and slurred on with a smile clearly on her face as she did, even though it was out of his vision.

He repeated the phrase right back at her tauntingly and heard her snort through her nose. "I suppose I can get you some more blankets if you're really that... um, ah heh... Carmen? Erm, ah.. what are you doing?" Rod asked, discretely adjusting his collar and trying to sound as calm as possible. Even if it weren't completely possible anyway, he tried to steady his breathing to the point where it felt like he barely moved. In her sleepy state, Carmen somehow found her way through the blankets to him and rested her head onto his chest, sighing contentedly when she unwittingly made contact and wrapped her arms around the "cushion".

The sleepy dancer responded with a grunt and a raised eyebrow to register she heard him. "Oh, lo siento," she murmured, "I didn't mean to hog them. It's just that the blankets and the cushions are warm and comfy here."

He tried to swallow discretely as he continued. "... you're holding neither," he spoke up, but kept a gentle tone. Maybe she could connect the dots through feeling his voice resonate through his chest.

Like clockwork, her eyes opened widely as she finally registered the soft, fresh-smelling couch cushion she was nuzzling her cheek deeper into echoed Rod's voice, ergo... She loosened her grip reflexively, but she didn't completely move away. She didn't want to push herself off of him and accidentally scratch him in the process. Roderich started to breathe normally again - at least, as far as she knew it was normal. The feeling of her body huddled into him admittedly quickened his heart rate, and he worried he might have gotten more information about her physical condition than she wanted him to know.

After an awkward silence, he felt Carmen's breath on him and the feather-light tug of her fingers on some baggier parts of it. It was a thinner top than she thought, and in her grogginess she may have made contact with flesh. "Um... I like your sweater."

"Ja, I... I noticed," he tried to respond sarcastically, but he was much too nervous to taunt her now.

She took his shallow breathing as a sign something was wrong. "...are you okay?" she fished, releasing her hands and gently feeling around for the actual base of the couch. "Oh, right - your arms! ¡Lo siento! I can stop."

"Oh, na na! They're- It's fine! They're fine!" He reassured her, unraveling his limbs from the blankets to slip the melted packs off and onto the side table. "These aren't really doing anything by now. I'm fine. I promise. That's not the problem, it's just that you-"

"No, don't tell me. I think I get it now," she sulked, rolling herself up to lean on the couch cushion beside him remorsefully. "I'm sorry, Rod. I didn't expect to be this tired for your party. I promise I'm not trying to be rude."

Rod took a moment to observe the bags under her eyes, how loose her hair fell, that pout. "I believe you. I'm not mad. I just wanted you to be sure you knew what you were doing. That's all."

"So... is this okay? Do you mind if I-"

"Please do," he invited her back, readjusting his seat to sit up straighter, leaning his arms back and over the cushions, and pushing the blanket out of her way of him. "I don't mind."

With his consent, she cautiously wrapped an arm around him and snuggled deeper into him like a pillow. It took a few seconds for them both to get comfortable, but by the end of it Carmen was cuddling onto him less cocooned and sinking into the contact while Roderich slowly eased into her tender hold.

"Would you be mad if I fell asleep?" The dosing dancer asked beguilingly from beneath the blankets.

"Not really," he mused, his voice surprisingly soothing. "Although I would like to keep talking for a little while." With a free hand, he gently stroked the blanket wrapped around Carmen, getting an idea of what touch was okay for her. Upon feeling the graze of his hand, Carmen sighed and snuggled deeper.

"So...." he continued on, "there are no breaks for you... whatsoever?"

"Well," she mumbled, "sleep, obviously. And today. And, of course, seeing  _Les Miserables_. That should be fun. But sweets and adventures? Not until after the audition's over. I don't wanna fall behind."

"That's a tough choice, don't you think?" he leaned his head down to her.

"I'm a tough girl," she argued in a way so non-threatening Roderich couldn't help but smile and try to lift his face away from her sight.

"I know that," he hummed, laying back again into the sofa and finally resting his hand on the blanket covering her back, sounding slightly more serious, "...just promise me something, ja?"

"¿Qué es?" she responded faintly.

"Remember to be kind to yourself, okay? Like you were with me... I promise you, it helped." With that last sentence, Carmen hummed and squeezed him a little tighter. "And, if I must, then I'll be kind to you, too..."

"You know what would be really kind of you?" she cooed wearily, "Letting me sleep on this couch again. It's so comfy."

Rod gave up on arguing with her, although he hadn't the slighest idea why she found him so cuddly. As far as he was concerned, there wasn't anything particularly cuddly about him. Unless maybe you counted his soft spots, of which there were many. But for a minute, they weren't left up to his quiet shame. In fact, he felt very little shame in the moment, leading up to his next proposal.

While reclining, he puffed out his chest the tiniest bit and let his hand gently stroke Carmen's back through the blanket. "Say, here's an idea," he cooed, "the audition is a few weeks away, right? When it's over, why don't you spend the weekend here with me? And my family, of course? You know - get away from campus for a while, get your mind off of everything? We can prepare a guest room for you easily."

"Or I could just sleep on this couch again," Carmen teased, wiggling a little into her seat and possibly forgetting for a moment that Roderich was her seat.

He argued on with her like a child, trying to quiet every adult idea screaming into his head upon feeling the brush of her rear against him. "If you're staying as a guest, then you'll get to sleep in a room on a bed. Not on a sofa, not on a piano stool - on a soft, comfy, dry bed with as many pillows and blankets as you need."

The question leaving her sounded too serious for her sleep-talking. "Would your family really be okay with me staying here for a weekend?"

"With all of the activity that happens here and the people who sometimes stay the night, you would think we're practically a hostel," he joked. "I'm sure any upset over you staying for a weekend will be gotten over quickly. In case you didn't already know, my family adores you. I'm sure they would respect that you need time to get away."

"I guess this could be a good idea. Lord knows, I won't want to think about what happens once that audition's over." She hessitated before she continued. "Can you give me some time to think about it?"

"Take as much as you need. You have a lot on your mind right now. That's fine... It was only a suggestion... But I do have one or two more of them I've been meaning to ask you."

"Hmm? ¿Qué es?" she drifted.

"Umm, well, neither of us are involved in  _Les Miserables_ and quite a few of our friends are. I was wondering if maybe... maybe you'd want to see it together?"

He felt her prod her chin onto him to look up as she asked through a strained whine, "We weren't already gonna do that?"

His eyes widened slightly as he shrugged, seeing if maybe he could inadvertently hide the tired little caterpillar with stray hair in her face. "Well, I don't remember actually making plans, and I didn't want to just  _assume_ , in case maybe you found a date for the evening-"

The caterpillar retaliated by blowing her stray hair in his face. "Do I  _look_  like I have the time to find a date?"

"Well, I don't know your life. Maybe you met someone at the studio or in your classes or on campus. It wouldn't surprise me."

Carmen scoffed. "Oh, I meet people there alright. They just don't impress me. And I'm not looking to be impressed as a teacher. Not in that way. No gracias."

Rod paused. "Do I need to get my ass kicked over that, too?"

"Stop it!" she groaned and snuggled her nose into his side to hide her laughter, instinctively causing him to wrap his arms around her. "You're terrible! I can handle it! Besides, I wouldn't want you all bruised up for  _your_  date."

He looked back down at her with a raised brow and released her. "You  _can't_  be serious."

She returned her gaze at him and scoffed, challenging him. "You're telling me no one's shown any interest in you? What about all of those girls at that theater party, Mr. Popular? Where's my "thank you" for that?"

"Well, I don't remember them coming up to me when they were sober, so I'm not sure if I can thank you for that. But don't worry. It's not your fault. I'm terrible, remember?"

"The worst," she simpered, resting her cheek back down and shutting her eyes again. "So, you don't have anyone to go with either?"

"Not at this point, no."

"Well, then, it's settled then, isn't it? Doesn't make much sense for us not to go together, right?"

"I suppose it doesn't. So I guess I'll stick to the formalities. Would you like to see  _Les Miserables_  with me and support everyone together?"

"Sí. And look at that - we have a plan." She balled herself up and somehow found her way into his lap upon readjusting.

At this point, he wasn't nervous at the contact anymore and found himself glowing. "I suppose we do... However, if you find a date and wish to cancel-"

"Sabelotodo," she scolded, "I said I'd go with you, and I'm going with you. End of discussion. You're stuck with me."

He was glad her eyes were closed - he was stuck with a fierce blush and bashful smile he couldn't mask. "I'm just saying I won't hold you to it, should you find someone else. That's all... This suggestion, however, I will hold you to."

"Hm?"

"If I were to bake you something for when the audition is over, what would you like?..." Within a moment of waiting, Rod wasn't sure if the slightly moist feeling near his armpit was leftover from the ice packs, his sweat, or Carmen's drool. "Are you still awake?"

With an upbrupt snort, he had an answer. "Sí, sí ... I'm thinking ... No, I can't. You shouldn't. It's too much. You're so busy..."

Rod readjusted himself to sit taller and spoke boastfully. "I don't care. I know who I am and what I can do, and I know I can bake anything you want me to bake for you."

"You couldn't have made this."

"Try me. I'm a tough girl."

"Incorregible, Sabelotodo" Carmen peeked her head above the covers and spoke longingly as she reminisced, "you know what I really miss? That I haven't had in years? Flan."

"Flan?"

"Flan. With all of the custard and the melted caramel on top? ¡Ay, dios mio, es tan bueno!" At least, that's what he thought she said through her yawn.

As Carmen settled back down again and smushed her face into his torso, Roderich mused. "A caramel custard cake for Karamell, hmm?" he teased, testing her alertness. When she didn't respond, he sighed and stroked her back again. "I'll see what I can do."


	26. Opening Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mid November, 1991, Salzburg, Austria.  
> Friday evening, opening night of Les Misérables.
> 
> The trio get dressed up and mentally prepared for opening night. Carmen is not prepared in either regard.

Carmen had never been involved in a theatrical production. Dance shows, sure, but never a big blowout piece of theater like  _Les Misérables_. She could admit to feeling a deep sense of reverence coming into her venues and slowly getting herself into a headspace, but hadn't been in the position of organizing her own showcase as of yet. She knew what it was to be a cog in the machine, but not the placer. She didn't fully know what was running through Maryann and Julia's heads as designers.

The cog observed the odd pair pulling themselves together, or moreso Maryann helping Julia pull herself together. It was a sight to see - Maryann having something elaborate planned sitting on her stitching bust, yet she was in a bathrobe with her makeup half done and her hair at risk of falling, fitting Julia into a wine-colored, floor-length dress.

"Don't fidget," the Parisian scolded, adjusting the dress on Julia's hips with quick tugs. "I'm almost finished."

"Come on," Julia nearly whined trying not to squirm as Maryann rolled back her shoulders, but she knew she couldn't. Maryann could hear everything, even nighttime whispers to a certain lead about possibly showing up to opening in a dress and stealing the show, "what if they have a party after? I can't bust a move in this!"

"You can come back here to change before you go," Carmen suggested. "Besides, imagine the look on your boyfriend's face when he sees you cheering for him in that!"

Julia's spine twitched up, hitching her shoulders and making the blush on her face rival her dress - at least, that's what Carmen could see in the mirror, along with the Prussian's nervous smile. The techie stuttered, her voice squeaky and strained, as she tried to rebuttle. Carmen bit her hand, trying not to snicker. Maryann only smiled mischieviously at her, almost mirroring the Prussian.

"Psh! Dan? He's- he's not my  _boyfriend_!" she tried to trivialize it, only making her nervous chuckle more obvious. "Besides, I'm not a dress kind of person, and I don't know about him."

Maryann pursed her lips to keep them silent - she already had an idea of how much Dan didn't care for dresses. Through her tiny smile and a gentle eye roll, she coaxed Julia further as she matched the hooks and slid up the zipper on the back. "Well, if you both hate it, then you have more of an excuse to take it off together after the show."

With that phrasing, Julia was off to the moon sputtering and sounding more and more winded, and squeaking ever higher. "Ha! Ha ha! You're... you're not funny, you know... How can- I mean- You're- You- Both of you can- Don't look at me like that!" Julia pointed wildly at her two friends through the mirror, whose eyes were watering from trying not to break into laughing fits, before she hid her face in the balls of her hands and her tangle of hair.

"Oh, calm down, mon ami," Maryann smoothed her hands over Julia's shoulders after taking a breath and correcting her posture from being bent in half. "Truly wanting to seduce someone is a perfectly natural thing, and it doesn't hurt to try something new - even if that might mean being open with your feelings."

"Yeah, well, doing it publically is... different," Julia groaned, looking again in the mirror at the dress. Julia knew Maryann certainly wouldn't let her walk out of their dorm looking bad, she could trust in that. But wearing dresses.. she scoffed. "It's almost like we're a couple or something."

Seeing Julia visibly shrink caused Carmen to go to her side and give her a quick hug, which Julia leaned into. Carmen tilted Julia's head up to hers. "Hey, you're not making a big public announcement just by wearing a dress. That's Maryann's job," the Spaniard gestured to the Parisian's clothing bust, which held a blue couture dress that looked fit for the Cannes Film Festival, or maybe a royal wedding.

It's wearer, who had just finished her shimmery eye makeup and pinned her tiara in, moved to the techie's other side. "But you can make a powerful statement in a dress and still command a room regardless of what anyone thinks of why you're wearing it. You're wearing this for you moreso than anyone else, and your more feminine side is worth exploring too, non?" Upon seeing Julia quietly squirm again, Maryann sighed. "Julia Beilschmidt, there is nothing in this world that dictates butch people cannot wear dresses, if they want to. And the same goes for feminine people in suits."

After a moment of looking back and forth between her two friends and her reflection, Julia bit down her lip and nodded in agreement. "One night. If nothing else, I can maybe scare and arouse him this way."

"That's my girl," Maryann cheered slipping into her gown, "Now zip me up. I have to outdo the cast." Julia and Carmen were soon helping Maryann in her own getup. Smoothing down her dress in the mirror, Maryann made a few poses among her giddy laughter. Overall, opening nights meant Maryann had free range to dress to the nines and politely outshine everyone around her without holding back.  Strutting around the room to the music in the background, Julia and Carmen proved why they were the best hype people for her to have around.

"Julia, get up there!" Carmen cried, "I need to look at the both of you!" Julia slumped her way up from her seat and stood next to the enthusiastic blonde. "¡Uf, guau guau!" she applauded, "You're both so dazzling! Just right for your night!"

* * *

Julia and Maryann had to meet backstage with the cast a half hour prior to the show starting, and they would be sitting in the front row with all of the other designers at places, so although Carmen arrived early with the pair, she was left to her own devices and concerns. She was still going to be seeing the show with Roderich, but they agreed it would be easier for her to prepare with Julia and Maryann after work than for him to pick her up.

She adjusted the short sleeves of her olive dress, feeling a bit of the chill from outside whenever people kept coming in. It was perhaps the first time in a while she had worn a dress with sleeves, and especially one so subdued: a dark olive green number that showed off a bit of her back without too much decoration. Maryann was a little hessitant at first, worried she'd look pedestrian in comparison to everyone else, but Carmen was more than okay with not being noticed for the night. Clearly in her mind she could remember Maryann scanning her choice over and tactfully smiling, "Well, it's not like you're on a hot date."

She felt herself hessitate at the thought. Was this a date? She planned to see the show anyway, and would have sat with Julia and Maryann additionally, if she could. Nothing really all that formal about the situation, beyond Roderich wanting to be clear they were seeing it on opening night together.

By asking her.

While she fell asleep on him...

Don't be silly, she thought. It was just a chance to spend some time together during their very busy schedules, she told herself. A chance to decompress and support her friends for all of their hard work. For the both of them to support their friends. This was  _completely_  platonic. It had to be. How could it be a hot date?

All of that mental prepwork she tried was for naught in the next moment, however. The door creaked open loudly enough to shock her into turning around, and what she saw had her head spinning. She half expected to see Roderich coming through that door, but she was not at all ready to see him dressed to the nines. In he walked, wearing a stylish, fitted, black, three-piece suit that became harder and harder to not stare at as he absentmindedly adjusted his cufflinks, jacket flaps, ran a hand through his windswept hair, checked the time on his watch, and looked into the bag in his hand.

Thoughts started to flood in without warning - damn, he cleaned up nicely! Was this black tie? Was he really that tall? He wasn't hunching. Had he actually been listening to her about posture? Was that his full height? He couldn't be this tall. Was he wearing heels on those shoes? Did he always have broad shoulders, or was it just the fit of the suit? Well, he did carry her that one time, so maybe. What was he carrying in that bag? It had to be for everyone else, right? Etiquette, remember? The bowtie was a surprise, especially in exposing that white button-down. That was a lot of white space. Why was this shocking? She already knew his chest was roomy - she rested her head on it before. Wow, did it look good. Did  _he_  look good. Oh, mierda, was she in trouble.

She quietly hoped she could get more critical the closer he came. She wouldn't acknowledge him. She'd wait for him to do something really unattractive to snap her out of it. She felt her face heat up once he took off his glasses for a quick cleaning, rubbing away the smudges with that cute knit in his brow. It's fine, she reasoned with herself, he would have done that anyway, with the way he cares about his appearance - this was nothing special. She cursed herself for her heart pounding over him trying very discretely to sniff underneath the jacket - a very discrete pit-check. Oh come on, she scolded herself, that's not even an attractive thing to do!

The alarm kept sounding off in her head for how much trouble she was in - these were not the kinds of thoughts to have about a friend and to be nervous over having. If she didn't calm herself down soon, he'd say something. She was already running out of time for herself - he'd spotted her and was making his way through the crowd to her, as cordial and as unsuspecting as ever. For her own piece of mind, she quietly prayed that he wasn't any more captivating up close.

* * *

Carmen hoped maybe the shadows of the corner she was in could hide the blush on her face, or at least keep Rod from asking questions. Naturally he moved toward her, reflexively extending his arms knowing what was coming. She noticed the movement and snapped back into reality, smiling brightly and moving into his embrace. She could at least use it to tell how much of the suit was lying about him. Feeling the tug of him under it and the vibration of his hushed "Happy Opening", she had her answer.  _Mierda_. Thrown off, she barely matched up with his cheek kisses and, worse, realized he was wearing a scent behind those ears. That gentle, warm scent he always had that ghosted along with the rest of him - the one that seemed to dangle in the air whenever she was close enough. Had she really thought about it that much?

Upon pulling his face away, Rod's brow furrowed slightly and his smile drooped. Hesitantly he asked, "Is everything okay? You looked shocked a moment ago."

Carmen was quick to rebuttal, smoothing down the sleeves of his jacket perhaps longer than she should have. "Shock? Ha! Don't be silly! I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be?"

"I see," he responded, backing away to full view a little sheepishly. She was correcting the fit of the jacket, wasn't she? Oh, God, that was it! He ran in looking like a mess. "Is it me? Is my seam straight?"

"¿Cómo?" Her confusion soon turned to compliments as she registered his worry. To show how not flustered she was, the dancer went back and forth between stroking his knuckles gently in her hands and running her fingers over the details on his suit. "Oh, Dios mío, Rod, you're fine! I mean, look at you! So clean!" She gushed, causing him to turn his face away and down to hide his smile. With a soft touch, she grazed her finger on his chin to turn him back to her and pushed back a few loose strands of hair. "You even washed behind your ears!" she joked.

Peering down at her, he registered what she'd said. "Oh, that," his mouth tugged at the corner, trying to make light of this obvious not-accident (Hey - he already had one disaster from taking her out - he wouldn't dare to risk a second). "I suppose that's one way to describe it."

"What's in the bag?" she asked coyly, as if she couldn't see the petals peeking out as clear as day. 

"Oh, this?" he pulled the bag up. "Four bouquets."

"Four?" Carmen's eyes lit up, but her voice remained cool. She was almost ready to accept the extra bouquet until she reminded herself it might not be for her. But it still could be. At least, she quietly wanted it to be.

Catching the shine in her eyes, Rod took the opportunity to tease while playing with the straps on the bag. "Yes, four. One for Julchen, Maryann, Daniel, and... Eduard."

"Oh," Carmen's eyes sank. She couldn't help the slight falter in her smile, but her eyes bugged in a different way and her brow netted, "Who's Eduard?"

Roderich bit his lip briefly to keep from smiling too smugly before continuing. "Eduard von Bock. He's a musical colleague. He'll be conducting tonight. This is his first live performance working with an orchestra, I believe. He's only ever worked with choirs before, and he's terribly nervous about tonight. I'm sure he'll do fine, but, just in case, he'll have these. As soon as I find the gift table for all of these, anyway."

"Oh, I think I passed it over here," Carmen swiveled out to gesture to it down the hall. Before thinking to turn back, Carmen became slightly self conscious with how much she was clinging to him and left Roderich some room. For his sake, of course - not so she could try to catch her breath. Carmen led the way, although it was more of a meander than a walk.

The Austrian strolled respectfully beside her, hands folded behind his back. Something about this lady seemed ill at ease, or at least discontented. She wasn't looking around the lobby much. From what he remembered, she had a tendency to devour a new place while curiosity had the best of her. Maybe she was tired? Maybe he could coax that excitement out of her. 

"Were you waiting here long?" Rod asked.

"Oh, not that long," she assured him, in her usual, fronting chirp. "Just enough to look around." 

The two kept walking in silence before Carmen opened up to talk again, this time more comfortable to face him. She felt a need to make eye contact with these kinds of sentiments. "That's very sweet of you, to think of Eduard. I'm sure he'll appreciate the flowers from you. They all will."

"Erm..." Rod rubbed the back of his neck and felt a flush in his own cheeks. Carmen noticed the dust of pink form on his face and regained some admittedly childish confidence upon noticing it. "Well, you see, they won't know I sent them. Just that  _someone_  sent them flowers." 

Noticing the dancer cock her head to the side and start to cross her arms, Rod's nerves caught up with him and jumped to his explanation. "I try not to make a large to-do about these things - I feel like it ruins the moment."

"Ruins the moment?" Carmen said through a laugh. "Do you even remember how happy you made me with those red carnations this summer? You handed me a bouquet of  _fa-low-wers_ ," she emphasized the concept, waving her hands in front of her as if she were gladly holding and shaking the carnations with the anguish of an opera singer. "How could that have made my day any worse?"

"Well, your case was different," he argued more adamently, his voice cracking slightly. "I didn't know any other way to get those flowers to you without hand delivering them, and I wasn't going to risk trying something and being wrong."

"Wait," she stopped him in place, moving them both against the wall. With a meddling look in her eyes and her hands on her hips, the Spanish lady snooped further, "so is this a thing you do normally? No one ever knows when you send them flowers?"

Slightly exasperated, the man let his shoulders slump as he sighed. "The fact that I sent them shouldn't be important," he shrugged, walking wearily past her and placing the flowers on the table.

Carmen continued her pursuit at his side, eyeing him expectantly, like a parent fawning over their child. Placing a hand over her face, the lady let out a small laugh though her nose as he uncomfortably pushed the flowers toward the handler, "Aw, eres tímido! ¡Que lindo!"

That familiar knit in his brow was back, moreso as a reaction to being patronized. He shot her a small glare from over his shoulder and his voice was prefaced by a sigh turned into a muffled growl.

"Please don't call me that. I am  _not cute_ ," he grumbled under his breath, straightening his posture and turning to walk back. "I haven't been cute since I was ten." With that comment, he straightened his lapels and stuck his nose in the air with the attitude of a stubborn ten-year-old. It only made her fawn over him in obvious defiance.

"Well, if you were going for mystery," she chided, "then being shy about this  _is_  the cutest way to achieve it."

Rolling his eyes and knowing he didn't have the ground to argue with her lest he start squeaking, he went on: "If I send them anonymously, then I don't have to worry about taking the spotlight away from someone  _else_ ," he clarified, returning to a more dignified state. "That, and they can take the flowers as something positive about the night, no matter how it goes. A little push to keep performing and creating, if nothing else. There's good merit in that, I think. That is why I do it -  _not_  because I am shy."

"So you don't do this with every other gift, then, right?" Carmen prodded. Seeing his deepening blush, his loss for words, and his attempt to mask both by sticking his chin in the air gave her the answer and the returning crinkle in her nose.

"You're so strange," she snickered, fanning discretely at the tears welling in her eyes. 

"I prefer the term 'mysterious'. Could you please go back to using that?" he mumbled through tight lips, with his chin still raised to hide his blush.

"Well, whatever you are," she sighed, bumping his side childishly with her hip as they kept walking, "you're very sweet." 

Upon catching a meek smile return to his face, a saucy smile returned to hers as she peered up at him. "Too bad for you though, because now I know your little secret. You can't surprise me with gifts anymore."

Quickly, the musician scoffed, with his head returning down to taunt Carmen. "You act as if this were an accident - me telling you this," he teased. "I remember that night just as well as you do. Your gratitude is far too amusing for me to ever want to miss."

Carmen flashed her teeth in a snarky grin, but it was interrupted by a very abrupt shiver. Now that he was really looking, he noticed she had her arms hitched up the whole time. Carefully, he steered the conversation while deciding his plan.

"You look lovely tonight, by the way. Like a breath of fresh air. That dress suits you very well," he looked as though he might have bowed upon saying it, causing Carmen to lower her face as if she'd curtseyed. "Is it yours?"

"No," the dancer blushed, "I'm borrowing it from Maryann. It was a chance I could maybe wear something fancy with sleeves."

"You mean you don't have a coat?"

"What, and draw attention to myself, looking like a big baby?" she scoffed, sounding herself like a ten-year-old. "I'm waiting to get one. It's too early. I'm not walking around in a big, puffy coat just yet."

"Uh huh," the musician smiled smugly, having exposed his vest and button-down to the indoor elements while his newly shed layer lingered in his hands. "Then a trim, black jacket would probably suit you much better for the evening, wouldn't you say?"

Upon turning to see him holding the coat and noticing his sleeves rolled up, she shook her head. If he thought she might have looked worried before, the slightly panicked look in her eyes was immistakeable - and admittedly the funniest thing Roderich had seen all week.  "Oh, no. No, Roddy, I couldn't."

"Why?" the Austrian's furrowed brow and toothy grin emerged together as he held up the jacket invitingly. "What's so extraordinary about a lovely lady wearing a gentleman's jacket?"

"But it's your jacket," she shot back with wide eyes, prying them away from studying his hands.

"So what?" he shrugged.

"So won't you be cold?"

"Who, me? Psh!" the Austrian responded with a cocky, snobbish aire that bordered parodying himself. "I was born in the cold. I've lived through nineteen winters here, half of which were in a chair or in metal braces, mind you. This is  _nothing_. See," he boasted, exposing his forearm for added proof, "there is not one goosepimple on me."

Before she lost herself following those little veins trailing up his sleeve, she bit back a snort looking up at him. "...Goosepimple?" she taunted.

"Whatever those little things are called," he fired back dismissively before returning to his pompous act, "You will feel none of them on-Ow!" he cried with a jump, feeling a tighter-than-expected grab near his wrist. "What are you-"

"Honk honk, Mr. Goosepimples!" she snickered, loosening her grip upon scaring him. "You can't fool me! I feel that hair standing up!"

She was right - her sudden contact caused his skin to erupt with those little bumps. "You... you surprised me, that's all," he retorted, slightly irritated and tending to his wounds. "Besides,  _I'm_  not the one shivering with this off. You can't rest when you're shivering like this."

The dancer went back to staring between Roderich's stern, somewhat pleading eyes and the jacket he loosened his grip over. "...You're sure you won't be cold?" Carmen asked with finality.

"If Julia's technical work is all that she says it is, then I should be short of catching on fire," he joked with a raised brow. Softening his gaze again, he returned to pleading. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I'm more concerned about you."

"Okay, put it on me," she relented with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. Turning around, she slipped her arms into his coat, while Rod helped adjust her into it with a few tugs. Looking puzzled for a moment, he tugged at the shoulder points a couple more times to make it not look so haphazard on Carmen. 

Looking down and raising her limbs, she and Roderich started to giggle at the excess sleeves of the jacket lingering limply over her hands. The dancer fluttered the sleeves in front of her as if they were blowing in the wind. "Where did my hands go?" she cried.

"To a warmer place," Roderich tried to answer cooly while extending his arm to her, but his response only made her snort again through her nose and crash into his side, latching onto him in the process as they entered the theater.


	27. Full Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mid November, 1991, Salzburg, Austria.  
> Later the same evening, after curtain.
> 
> The gang meets up after the show, and some of the buds are blooming in November.

The show itself went over quite well for the two of them in the audience, and it certainly delivered on its promise to make one cry. Both Rod and Carmen had a few moments to shed tears, one of which in the second half led to Carmen nearly sobbing and shivering so badly that she inadvertantly ditched holding his hand and clung to his side for comfort, essentially remaining there until the curtain call. Was she tired? Was she in need of the contact? Of comfort? Warmth? Frankly, he didn't care what the reason was - he was in a room filled with overwhelming, moving melodies and experiencing it with a woman who rarely remained still. And here she was, snuggled into his side, occasionally following his sneaky conducting hand with her eyes, relaxed and content to be there.

The performances themselves were striking, visceral, and raw. Rod remembered quickly what led him to be so enamoured with Daniel before - his incredible, wide-ranging instrument commanded a room, no matter what register he sang in, and his intense discipline and commitment to the part was inspiring. Of course, he didn't have much difficulty creating tension with Vlad Popescu opposite him as Javert. Toris Laurinaitis made a very stirring Marius, the sophomore's gentle voice soaring lightly in the air. Once Dan graduated, this boy would likely be up for his spot. It probably helped him that Eduard was conducting, too - like working in their accapella group. That, and those two also had Raivis up there as well as their Gavroche.

Despite what Rod and Carmen could only assume was fingernail-biting in the front row, the technical changes flowed beautifully. Maryann Bonnefoy could be trusted to find the right aesthetic in a show, but it was clear she did her research on proper costuming from that era. She obviously stood for the techie curtain call, and pulled Julia up with her in the excitement of facing their adoring public. Julia's special effects were beyond belief, in that Rod could barely believe she had gotten away with using them; however, they truly envoked the visuals of warfare on the barricade and indeed increased most everyone's respect for those performers in how they barely flinched - not even Eduard was skittish from the noise, despite his occasionally hitched shoulders. For his first time, Rod was quite impressed with the sophomore. He was thrilled with the number of times he could close his eyes and lean back, taking in the full sound that brought water to his eyes.

Upon waiting out a rather long curtain call, the pair walked toward the front to congratulate Julia and Maryann and wait for Dan to change out of costume. Seeing Maryann in something fabulously over-the-top was nothing new for Rod, but he gaped upon seeing his foster sister in a dress.

Had Maryann been less calculating on it and less prone to suspect it would happen, she might have gaped at how Carmen nearly wore Roderich like an accessory, beyond wearing his jacket. And at how much the Spaniard looked like she could float away if she let go of him. An even stranger look for him ... Rod didn't seem resigned or passive to any of Carmen's contact at any point she could see that evening. So she maybe stole a few glances back at her little sister - her poor, naive little sister who looked stunningly at peace squishing herself into his side, which couldn't have been comfortable with that arm rest between them.  _Mon dieu._  The excitable flood of compliments flew out of Carmen like waves gracing a coast line, and Maryann let them wash over her without paying scrupulous attention. Maryann kept a courteous face, however, and responded with what appeared to be her blasé sense of confidence.

After a few moments of congratulatory chatter, Dan ran across the stage to them carrying a bunch of bouquets - the sight of which caused Carmen to peer up at Roderich, who stiffened sheepishly under her gaze. The Hungarian hopped down from the stage and stopped midway handing Julia her flowers. The leftover eye makeup made the whites in his eyes more obvious, and it was hard to tell if the star was gasping or sighing.

"What? You out of breath or something?" Julia teased him, straight-faced, as if he hadn't been performing for three hours.

"... You wore a dress," he breathed, responding with what little voice he had.

"I said I would," the albino retorted haughtily. "Did you think I was lying?"

"I just... I just didn't think you'd do it," Daniel confessed. He shouldn't have been shocked, and yet seeing her with a fabric train knocked the wind right out of him. "You didn't have to."

"I know," Julia replied defensively, stepping forward and snatching the flowers from his hand, waving them almost like a sword to speak. "What, you have a problem with me in a dress? Huh? Maybe  _you_ should wear the dress next time, hmm? Hmm?"

"Down, girl," Maryann teasingly looped her arm into Julia's to pull her back. "Daniel, darling, this may be the last time you see Julia in a dress. Choose your words wisely."

"Azta," he exhaled. "If it's the last time, I may need a picture."

"Why?" Julia sneered, looking him over suspiciously. "You gonna blackmail me over it?"

"I have my reasons," the Hungarian retorted, a wry smile creeping onto his face - one that made Julia beet red. Suddenly her tough girl act wasn't so convincing as she hid her face in that bouquet.

The flustered technician felt a tag poke her face and dug around for it after pulling her face away. "Hey, this one's yours!"

"And I'm giving it to you," he retorted, flashing his teeth in a cheeky grin. "What, you have a problem with me giving you flowers? Huh?"

Maryann was merciful to her friend by clearing her throat to speak before Julia started to squeak and sputter like a kettle. "Are those all for you?"

"Nem," he replied. "This one is yours, from  _someone_." The star gave less-than-discrete side-eye over to the quiet pianist subtly glaring at him and the Spanish lady biting her lip to hide that proud, petty smirk. Even if they had been better at keeping it a secret, Dan had seen Rod's handwriting too many times to mistake it for anyone else's.

The Parisian elegantly took her bouquet from Dan and inspected it with what one could probably consider care. A smug smile graced her face as she thanked Dan for bringing it out and inhaled the scent delicately. With her face hidden in the petals, she could spy and reaffirm her suspicions. Maryann saw the expectant smile on Carmen's face observing her joy, but more importantly she saw the wistful look in Rod's eyes gazing between the two of them. It was written all over his face - he'd clearly sent her the flowers, like he'd done so many times before in the same way, and he never saying anything.

Almost three years of tension and passive-aggression and no show of care or concern otherwise; no solely-focused, sober invitation to express it; nothing. Why would he still send those individually to her, after that party? After that night? After everything she'd put him through? Why would he keep spending the little money he had on her, who took so many opportunities to treat him poorly? He could have bought the bouquet for Carmen instead. She'd appreciate it much more. Why Maryann? She'd already made it clear he was on thin ice with her. Was this a humiliation kink? Why remain anonymous, if so? It couldn't be. She remembered inflicting a sting on him at that party - how hastily he'd tried to drown it out. She clearly struck something in him he wasn't asking her to strike. Did the blow this last time hit his ego, or was it beyond the images and impressions they both valued so much? Had she misunderstood him this whole time? Maybe they were more alike than she'd thought.

After a moment, the Parisian cleared her throat and rose her chin to see them all. "Just one? Psh! There  _must_ be some mistake!" The Parisian handed Carmen the bouquet before briskly walking backstage. With the sound of a haughty laugh echoing from the wings, she returned with a large assortment of various flowers in her arms that was so ungodly large they eclipsed her face and risked toppling over at any moment.

"I knew it! Oh, Daniel, darling, you must be tired if you missed seeing all of these laid out for me!"

Daniel was too winded to immediately respond, but Carmen jumped right into one with her jaw reaching the floor. How would Maryann ever find space for so many flowers? Who even sent them? "¡Sra. Popular! ¡Guau!"

"Oh, it's not that different from other years, mon petite," the Parisian soothed with a proud chuckle, which soon turned into a loud, theatrical sigh. "Oh, but our dormroom is so small this year, Julia! I don't think I have enough vases for all of these to sit by the window! How sad. I'll just  _have_  to give some up."

"Ah, I wish I had your problems, amiga! How can you even choose!?" Carmen asked sweetly, sniffing into the petals in front of her. "They're all so beautiful!"

"Oh, that's easy!" Maryann called down, shifting the bouquets into one arm as she descended the stage stairs. "I discard the unsigned ones. It's easier for writing thank you cards and going through numbers that way - it saves me time... If you want, you can keep that one in your hands. It is unsigned, non?"

"Amiga, I-"

"I insist!" Maryann spoke over her, words flying out of her fast and fluidly. "A lady looking as pretty as you should have flowers! It will make that olive color pop even more! Trust me - I practically do this for a living!"

A gentle glow started to appear on Carmen's cheeks at the gesture. "Maryann... merci."

"Oh, but of course!" Maryann simpered, before applying those cheek kisses to her friend. "What are generous big sisters for? But it is a shame though for whoever sent me those flowers. I'll never know who they are, and they'll never know how I felt about it."

Unable to see Roderich's pensive eyes looking between the Parisian and the floor, Carmen kept looking for ways to express her gratitude. "Do you need a hand putting those flowers away?"

"Merci, mais non. Some of the messages I receive are, umm...  _private_ , to put it plainly. And they require some special arrangements to be made. In fact, I think I saw a tempting offer peek out on my way over here that is just too rare to overlook. I'll have  _him_  carry the flowers. Don't worry about it. Go, enjoy your night off! You can come by our room later!"

"Maryann," Julia whined. "You said you were going to help me get this off."

The Parisian chuckled, smiling coyly as she ascended those stairs onto the stage again. "Oh, it's not so hard. You should be fine. And if you need it, I hear Daniel is a fast quick change."

"Or whatever kind of change you're after," Dan purred into Julia's ear.

Completely red in the face and angrily pouting, the East German gripped his hand and tried to drag him out the door. It was her turn to project across the theater, although it was unintentional and rang out like a creaky pipe. "We'll see you guys later!"

"Hang on," Dan teased her. "I left something in the dressing room. I'll be back."

The star followed Maryann into the wings. His voice was low, but still coy enough in inflection to grab the Parisian's attention.

"Do you need help putting those back before they're missed? Don't worry - I won't tell."

It seemed almost like Maryann's eyes could glow in the dark with the way she glared at him. Unable to put up a fight against that petty grin, she scoffed, "... Some of them really  _are_  mine, you know."


	28. Echoes as Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mid November, 1991, Salzburg, Austria.  
> Later the same evening, after curtain.
> 
> Roderich and Carmen decide to go for a walk after the show, and they come across Rod's family's bakery.

The gentle mist coated the walkways and left a glow over the cobblestones. At this time of night, these streets were mostly deserted save the lights illuminating the shops that would open in the morning. The only discernible noise was the gentle shuffle and click of shoes and faint, spirited voices. After a few hours of listening to glorious sounds, the quiet had a chance to do its own good for Carmen and Roderich.

While the pair mostly meandered, Roderich began to walk with more purpose when they reached one peculiar street and nearly jogged up to one particular building. While the Austrian stepped past her to observe the alley way beside it, Carmen read the sign hanging on the side of the building: Edelstein Beckerei.

Carmen was pulled away from taking in the intricate decorations along the walls to the noise coming from the alleyway. She turned the corner of the place to see Rod climbing up the small, covered staircase to the entrance, muttering to himself: "I wonder if it's still here."

"What are you looking for?" The Spanish lady peeped up, ascending after him and trying to avoid making the iron creak.

Within almost the same moment observing the roof of it, Roderich quietly released a tittering laugh that seeped into his speech. "Unbezahlbare! Es ist noch hier!"

"What is?" Carmen was now nearly beside him, looking around.

Hearing her so close, he peered down at her. She could sense a mischief bubbling from him, but she was intrigued. Such a boyish laugh had to have meant something.

Roderich's voice matured back after clearing his throat. "Look here," he gestured for her to stand essentially where he was. Once she was in position, he smoothed his hands down the jacket still draped around her shoulders and directed her further with a tone bordering on naughty, wiping off the dew from what he wanted her to see. "Let's see how good your German has gotten. Tell me what that says."

Carmen squinted to read the crude graffiti on the railing. "Schauen Sie auf, um Mozarts zeitlose Weisheit zu erhalten..." She mused for a moment over it before looking over her shoulder to Rod. "Do I really wanna look up?"

That grin was starting to remind her of his brothers. "You'll be left to wonder, if you don't."

After taking in that playful smile and a deep breath, the Spanish lady craned her neck and squinted to read what was scratched into the roof. She even braved propping herself to stand on the slick side rail for added height:

"Leck mir den Arsch fein recht sch- Oh, that is sick!" The lady immediately turned to silence that tittering giggle with a half-hearted shove. If anything, it was almost as effective as tickling him would have been. "Did he really say that?"

"Schön, na?" The boy's laughter subsided. "Julchen and I wrote that years ago. I can barely believe it's still here!"

"And you weren't trying to stop her?" Carmen feigned disappointment.

"Where do you think she got the quote?" he sassed her, as if it were obvious. "I was 14 once too, you know."

"Oh, sure, once," she sneered. "Like you've grown up all that much."

Bold words, considering when he carved the quote in, he had to sit on Julia's shoulders and the dancer was shorter than he was at that age. "Um, I don't think you have any room to talk."

Turning herself around on the rail to sneer again, Carmen felt her foot slip and catch on her heel, causing her to risk falling forward. In a panic, Roderich positioned himself so she could latch on for support back up. Gripping the rail with one hand and finding her footing, she unbraced and noticed the mist getting thicker upon opening her eyes. No, that wasn't mist. There was noise: a humming, echoing sigh buzzing against her ear.

Upon them both releasing, the pair attempted to pull away but felt either a door or railing shoved them together. They were maybe a couple of centimeters apart, but all the shifting and wiggling to free themselves only made them feel more stuck. They both were starting to understand it had been a long time since they stood so near to each other, and all of those little details started to come flooding back.

Carmen snorted quietly through her nose, embarrassed by her clumsiness. "Heh, I barely have the room to stand here," she joked.

It didn't really help that the entry way was designed for one customer at a time. "It is tighter than I remember it," Rod mused, feeling an intense need to loosen his tie. "Ah, stay there," he requested, and he reached for the outer frame and squirmed himself to the other side of the stairwell, taking a moment to dust himself off before offering a hand back up to her.

When he looked back, he saw Carmen leaning her forearms on the frame and studying the cobblestones. She was either taking the embarrassment of slipping very hard or...

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, sí, sí, it's just..." she let out a solemn chuckle, massaging her palms and trying to mask herself with a smile, "I was just thinking about what life was like when I was 14."

"Care to share?" he asked, walking over to a crate nearby to sit. "It must have been more exciting than working in a bakery."

The Spanish lady's eyes widened as she trilled her lips. "Oh, I made it exciting alright."

Taken aback, Rod thought to pursue the topic with caution. "That sounds... ominous."

Seeing his wide eyes and tugs at his tie, Carmen shook her head smiling. "It's not that scary," she assured him, seating herself beside him. While she spoke confidently, she felt it easier to stare at the cobblestones as she went on. "I got into a lot of trouble at that age is all. Even before then, really. My parents weren't happy with me. Lots of fights."

Rod cocked his head. And he thought he could be cryptic. "How do you mean lots of fights, if that's not too personal?"

She shrugged, resting her elbows on her knees again. The words weren't coming to her easily and made her feel like she was slipping from the rail all over again. "I had a reputation for... not being very nice to other kids, especially to the boys in my neighborhood. Don't get me wrong - sometimes they deserved it... but most of the time they didn't. It's... it's not something I'm proud of about myself."

"... I see." At lot had dawned on him within a matter of seconds. For one thing, it was possible for Carmen to feel shame. For another thing, he understood his initial apprehension to her upon their meeting. Mostly, he worried he'd asked too much of her yet again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you."

"Oh, no no, you're alright," she waved him down, trying to push that sense of confidence yet again. "It's just... no se, it's just maybe better we didn't meet at that age."

"Was it really that bad?"

Within a second, she whipped herself to face him and quickly laid out her scene with all the dramatic flair he had come to expect. "Okay, so I had bad focus and a bad temper, but I was little. I wasn't trying to hurt anybody who didn't hurt me first. Not a good response, I know - but when you're five and some puta steals your snacks and says you look like a witch, it's hard to be nice. But those were defensive. I wasn't out to be mean."

Feeling a twinge of guilt risk overcoming her, the dancer sighed and leaned back against the wall, hoping she could see stars peeking through the clouds. "But I grew up some more and life became more complicated, and it became more than just defensive."

The dancer made it a point to face him with her next words, but they had gotten harder to say when she noticed the concern in his eyes. "I'm not saying this behavior is right or that I still do it, but when you're 14 and you look... less like a witch, and it's customary where you are to be married to somebody in a year or two-"

Roderich let out a sharp cough from nearly choking on his own spit. "Excuse me, hold on... Married? Did you say "married"? As in... "as long as you both shall live", man and wife, wedding cake-"

"Moving out, taking care of a house, having the babies- Marriage. It's marriage. You can call it what it is."

Carmen could have nudged him gently and it would have been enough to knock him to the ground. "Ach je! Fif-" hearing his voice echo back, he hushed his voice to that of a strained whisper. "15? Funfsehn? Quince? You said 15? Children at 16? That's terrifying!"

"I know!" she whispered back, trying to clamp down a nervous laugh. "Why do you think I was trying so hard not to be liked?"

Rod leaned back into the wall, at the risk of giving himself a nasty bump. "Married at 15! Lieber Gott. I'd just as soon marry my piano at that age!"

"Where do you think my head was? Look, if I were a boy things would have been different, because then I could be a husband. I could still do what I wanted – I would just be married. But becoming a wife meant focusing on taking care of a house and cooking and children and giving up on everything else. Getting married meant I couldn't dance anymore: not like how I wanted, anyway."

"And so you fought, even if you didn't know if it would work."

"I mean, I knew I could get out of it. I'd already seen Celia work hard to be a career woman and convince my parents to let her go, but I had to do it differently. See, Celia's very smart and serious, but she keeps to herself. It's just who she is. She would go off to school and be a scientist and make all the money and live on her own, no problem, so they weren't going to push anything. But," she sighed, holding her chin up indignantly, "they didn't think I could take care of myself like that."

Well, that was a familiar concept. "Let me guess," he asked through one of those polite, tight-lipped smiles that had become almost second nature, "how are you going to take care of yourself and live as an artist?"

"See, you'd think that'd be it, but no. My parents don't travel or perform or live that kind of life, but they know it can be done. They already knew I was good, but that wasn't enough to make them not worry. They always worried for me."

Resentment had found its way into her tone, but she tried very hard to mask that bitterness in her humor. All the humor was draining from her forced smile. "See, I was the baby in their eyes. The princess. Their cute, little Carmencita. I'm still the baby! I'm not even the youngest! But I'm the youngest girl - that's the difference! And you know the pressure is on from day one for girls to behave. And I'm not that stupid. I know my effect on people and how they have that impulse to want to protect me. Just... just being myself and being how I normally am isn't enough to-"

"To be taken seriously?"

She stared at him for a moment before he registered the interruption. "Sorry. I'll... I'll stop that. You were saying?"

"No, that was it. You're right. It's a respect thing. Like, don't get me wrong, I understand what I need to do to earn respect, and it's not like I'm trying to whine about doing the work to earn it instead of just doing the work. I still do what I have to, sabes? Within reason and decency, of course. I work very hard to-"

"I know." He realized he'd done it again, but he was sure he already understood everything she was about to tell him. "Look, you don't need to convince me of the kind of person you are. We're well past that."

Those words had found a way to silence her, but she was stubborn. Crossing her leg over and pouting, she sassed him from over her shoulder. "No se. Maybe I just wanted to remind you."

Carmen couldn't see the worry spreading through him, but she could hear sincere remorse in his faint words. "...I'm sorry if I've made you feel like you have to."

Soon, Carmen turned around to see Roderich moping, peering up at her with sad eyes. "I promise the pretense isn't intentional - I need to keep better track of it."

"Oh, Rod," she nearly laughed at the confusion, "I don't think you're-"

"No, I mean socially I am dense about these kinds of things. It's never my intention to come across this way or make any of my friends feel they need to jump through hoops to please me. You don't have to prove yourself to me. We're already friends. I don't question how grateful I am for that."

"Rod," she mewed through a wiggly smile, placing an empathetic hand on his knee and giving it a teasing shake. "Look, I really don't think you're pretentious. I wouldn't have trusted you with all of this, if I did."

The Austrian didn't care if she toyed with him like a toddler in that moment. It wasn't patronizing coming from another child. The shy simper was back, and it warmed the frost forming around them. "Right... well, I'm glad you trust me. But I digress. I'm sorry you're stuck facing this much pressure."

"Eh," she straightened her posture and let her voice brighten up the alley, "it stinks, but I'm doing it. I mean, look at me! I'm going to school and working and meeting new people and reading dirty jokes on doorframes in the middle of the night in another country, and I'm doing it all by myself. Well, not all by myself, but you know what I mean. And soon enough I'll get to audition into a great dance program and make my dreams happen, make my parents proud. Exciting stuff, for a baby."

"Quite," Roderich nodded, letting his smile become less shy, "although you're forgetting to mention the part where you'll inevitably make the program."

The dancer hummed and grinned slyly at him. "What do you think I meant when I said I'd make my dreams happen?"

"Aha! There you are!" he smiled in a joyful way she hadn't had the pleasure of seeing in a while. "Glad to see your confidence is returning, Maestra."

For a second, Carmen tried to hide a bashful smile, but she laughed it off, almost anticipating a tickling sensation under her chin to prop it up. "Hey, I'm reaching the point where having it really matters, ¿sabes?"

After a quiet pause, Roderich leaned closer to her. She felt his hand brush briefly over hers and noticed his caution had returned. "Speaking of that point... Shut me up, if you'd rather not think about it, but considering auditions are approaching I do recall asking if you would like to spend that weekend afterward away with my family to relax. Have you... have you thought on it at all?"

Carmen leaned back into the wall, staring up at the sky. She sounded listless as she went on, her voice a chilling monotone. "What? Have I thought about an escape from the soul-crushing dread of waiting on a yes or a no on the rest of my future for another month?"

If she turned to see him, she might have been startled by his brazen, harrowed stare, though he'd argue she wouldn't nearly be as disturbed as him. "... Yeah, that."

The dancer cocked her head casually, looking down at her nails. "... It's crossed my mind."

"So am I claiming the guest room that weekend for you or no?"

"That depends," she replied, a coy smile tugging at her lips. "Are you still making that flan?"

"I thought we agreed you were getting that either way."

"Yeah, but I want it first thing when we get to your house," she demanded, gently poking his shoulder.

Roderich's eyes squinted behind those lenses, although he didn't appear upset. "We?"

Carmen backed off for a second, almost prepared to start biting her nails. "Oh, wait. Yeah... I... I guess I didn't ask before. Maybe I dreamed it, no se. Tan cansado."

Roderich still didn't quite understand why she was so flush with embarrassment and why she pulled at her fingers or couldn't look at him, but he remained patient.

"Would you be comfortable being around for my audition?"

By this point, he'd understood the question, but his head was spinning trying to understand her logic. "You... want me there?"

"I'm sorry I didn't ask you sooner. It's just... no se, you being there... I mean, I don't need you there. I can assure myself just fine. I just ... don't know how I'll be when I walk out of that room, when it's all over. This is..."

She ran her hands roughly through her hair as she let out a weary sigh. "I am putting so much into those moments before it that I don't know what I'm gonna do when they're gone. And I guess having you around would be... helpful?"

Roderich had few reasons to see himself as a calming presence. He could see himself as a sobering one, sure, but he was painfully aware of how he came across to other people. He could think of more instances where his presence alone inspired stress in others rather than alleviated any. But how could he think she was lying to him when she seemed so vulnerable?

The musician stood up calmly and brushed himself off, soon extending a hand to Carmen. "Alright, that settles it. After we get back, you and I are baking that flan together."

"¿Qué?"

"Well, I can't bake it during your audition, and I am not an early riser. And I won't have you doubting the fact that I made it. So we're making it. Or you can watch me make it. Whatever your fancy."

"This isn't too much to ask, is it?"

"How so? I get to watch your most spectacular performance to date, and you get to see what five years of working in a bakery does to a person."

Now that sounded ominous. "Ooh!" She shuddered impishly. "No se. Am I going to like this?"

It was rare to hear Roderich sincerely gloat about himself. If he did most other times, it would seem theatrical, as if he were parodying himself before anyone else had the chance. Here, it sounded like he was responding to a challenge with chilling poise. "You get to enjoy something delicious and masterfully crafted by the end of it. Is that not compensation enough?"

She couldn't let him think he'd left her speechless playing it so cool. She snuck to his side as they continued down the street. "So no funny apron?"

Glancing at her over his shoulder, the Austrian left her feeling a certain way looking so devilishly debonair. His piercing gaze cracked once a wry chuckle snuck through his nose.

"As if I would tell you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mozart reference:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkNePP0DX1A


	29. Honor Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late November, 1991, Salzburg, Austria.  
> Tuesday evening, leading up to audition day.
> 
> In one of their last rehearsals leading up to audition day, Dan and Carmen have a heart to heart about what's been holding her back.

This was not one of Carmen's best moments, admittedly. Drenched in sweat and red with frustration, her anger bubbled over and she paced like her feet could burn holes into the floorboards. It had been a long time since her temper had caught up with her like this, but she knew she couldn't risk throwing a tantrum. The fact of the matter was that her jumps just weren't coming along as easily as she hoped. Months of preparation and posturing and yet she still felt behind. What good was the knowledge to her if she couldn't even execute it?

If Daniel weren't instructing her in that exact moment, she'd have no problem with screaming and stamping away until she was hoarse and tired. She came close in some times where he'd check in; Dan, however, remained patient observing her.

"Okay, tell me what you did."

"I told you. I'm not putting enough force into my back leg. It won't make the angle up as high as it should be. It just looks lazy."

"We're trying to make it look delicate."

"But it looks lazy. I'm telling you. It's still not elevated enough. The move needs more energy. I can see it in the mirror and feel it when I land. I look heavy. I can't look heavy in that audition room. I have less height to make up for this kind of thing, you know."

"I know," the Hungarian placated her. "Your form is tensing up. You're starting to stiffen. Are you cold?"

"I feel like limp spaghetti," she growled, scraping her nails through her roots.

"Just breathe for a little," Dan soothed. "Try to relax."

Carmen whipped around to face him fully for the first time that day. "Relax?!" she snapped. "I don't have the luxury right now, Dan. I need to get past the goddam basics if I want to make it next week. I can't be worried about-"

"The jump isn't the problem," he cut through her words, a sternness creeping into his voice. "Neither are the basics. I know you have those from the work you've put in."

"Don't lie to me!" she whipped around again like a hurricane, her voice breaking at the pressure as she ranted. "If I can't prove it like it's nothing, then do I really have them? Has it really been good work? If I can't hit even those marks, am I really cut out for a-"

Slam. She was brought to silence by the sharp clang of Dan roughly setting down one of the stools on the hardwood floor.

After a moment of his student gawking at him in silence and confusion, he spoke with a chilling calm as he turned back around to grab another. "Alright, that's enough. We're done dancing for the day."

While stunned, her fuse was still short. The question came out hushed and harsh, an ember flashing in her eyes. "¿Qué?"

His face was stern as he placed another stool nearby and mounted it. "I said we're done dancing for today."

Her fuse was back and thawed her out of shock. "You're kidding me! We still have a whole hour left!"

"I know. I never said our time was up," the Hungarian explained, perched comfortably on the stool. "You have a block. We need to get past it together before you get back to moving."

Carmen sighed, and Dan was unsure if it was to express or let go of her stand-offishness. She glared toward the ground. "I don't see what good that will do, if you won't let me dance through it."

Dan sighed through his nose observing his pupil and pat the stool across from him. This was going to be a tough hour. "It doesn't seem to be working today. We've got to try something else. I've been putting it off for too long."

Carmen wasn't ready to hear it, and she lost herself again at the mere implication she couldn't reign herself in. She knew better than anyone what made her tick. How dare he minimize her efforts and talk down to her like this. Leaned over clutching the stool with her hands, she challenged him hissing and condensing like a tea kettle. "How do you know I'm not about to have a breakthrough in my next jump, eh? How can you tell me to stop when I might be so close? When I could shut myself up about it by proving myself wrong?"

Though far from angry, Dan's still sternness was piercing. "Because you're already mad enough right now that you'll give up on yourself if you fail, and I can't let you do that. Not as your teacher and definitely not as your friend."

Carmen hated to admit it, but she had to face it. At this moment, Dan's stoic attitude quietly overpowered her immature outbursts. Because that's what they were, and the shame in that sobered her into pulling her nails out of the stool cushion and taking a deep breath to keep any frustrated tears at bay. For her poor friend who never asked for this. Who would? "Lo siento, Dan. I shouldn't be yelling at you. This is my problem. I won't burden you with it."

Dan's method to deescalate a conflict required so little movement that any change could signal a new mood, and seeing more of the whites of his eyes and even a slightly more charged tone was cause for concern.

"I don't care about you yelling at me. I'm ex military. I can take it. What I can't take is you being so needlessly hard on yourself, and that's saying something if I'm the one saying it to you. If anger motivates you, then fine, but don't let it stress you out or excuse beating yourself up. You don't deserve that when you're already working so hard."

Carmen's shoulders dropped down, but it was more so from losing her grip on that emotional baggage. Her burden - not his or anyone else's. In habit, she forced a smile. "Lo siento. It's... let's just get back to dancing, okay?"

"Oh no," the Hungarian shook his head with an understanding smile, grabbing both of their water bottles while he was up. "You're not getting out of it that easily. I'm okay with you stretching, but you and I really have to have a talk, because we both hate doing it and now is better than never."

Her smile was slipping, as were all attempts at masking her worry. "What more is there to talk about? I said I'm sorry. Can we please get back to dancing and having a good time? Please?"

"Talking first. Dancing later."

After having enough of Daniel looking at her with pleading eyes, she reluctantly sat across from him.

Dan did his best to keep it casual, letting his posture slide and his legs cross. "Look, where I'm from we have this thing about social boundaries, in that we don't really have many of them among friends-"

"Yeah?" She interrupted, allowing herself justified defense. "Well, that's how friendships are where I'm from. We have those boundaries for a reason."

"And this is why you and I are so alike."

She paused. She couldn't believe it. It sounded wrong coming from him. Coming from the life of the theatre parties, one of the darlings of the dance program, the guy known to play protector like it was a calling. She was clearly puzzled and, to Dan's relief, slowly tiring of being angry.

"Usually there are few boundaries among friends in Hungary," he explained. "Usually. Not so much with me. So much of my life has been creating these social walls, to save myself. Maybe to spare my loved ones. Still, I know what it is to be private for so long that you don't think on it. To avoid serious conversations to spare anyone from being upset. I hated it, but in that house, I had to do it. Now, here, I don't have to do it, and yet I can't help myself, and I hate that."

Carmen couldn't help but turn away, closing her eyes tightly to block him out - a final front of resistance, betrayed by the crack in her voice. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I know part of you wants to get past it, but you don't want to look needy. I get it. I know how hard it was for you to tell us you wanted to stay here. To admit you cared. I saw it in your eyes the night you told us. It's a hard thing to say: that you want to audition for a program like this and leave your home for it. I know how intimidating it is to be away from home for so long... Do you still talk to your family?"

One little, unexpected word could shoot Carmen's eyes open and have her fully face that man and risk him seeing the glaze in her eyes. "Still?"

He shrugged. "Not all of us do... Do you?"

"Sí, por supuesto."

"When was the last time you called them?"

Her eyes cast down again to her hands, which she had started to gently fold and fidget. "I haven't."

"You haven't? Not even one time?"

"I've been writing to them," she explained. "Postcards. I bought so many before I got here. I made a promise and I... well, it doesn't matter now. I'm writing them postcards. It's much easier than calling. More time for the right words, ¿sabes?"

"Right words?"

"I don't want them to worry."

"Why would they worry?"

A bitter laugh escaped her as she threw up her hands. "If you were my papá, wouldn't you be worried to see your baby girl like this? To them, this is just another crazy thing I've thrown myself into doing. If I get weepy on the phone, they'll come get me, and it'll be over. So I don't call."

"Would you be weepy? Do you miss them? Are you not happy here?"

Carmen shrugged, the guilt seeping through her eyes. Her smile was genuine, but it was shaky. "Of course I miss them, but I'm not unhappy. I'm not sure if I've ever been happier, really. I'm not weepy because I miss them, and I'm not lonely, when I have all of you around me. It's..." and suddenly a wave of sadness quivered her lip and breached over her eyelashes. "Dios, aquí va. Lo siento."

"It's alright," Dan soothed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We all cry. You're doing great."

"No, I'm not," she sniffled, bringing a sleeve to her face. "I throw a tantrum and weep like a baby all because I can't hit the marks and look the part, and if I can't do that then I have to leave all of this behind me and go back-"

It was too much for him to keep still, and he crouched down in front of her, both hands smoothing down her shoulders. "Hey, it doesn't have to be here. You don't have to give up dancing, in the slim chance I didn't prepare you well enough for this. You can dance anywhere else, at any other conservatory, and you'd be great no matter where you are."

"Unless my parents tell me it's time to stop wasting time and get married back home," she wept, letting the weight of her woes crash down. Thankfully Dan was right there to catch her as she cried, giving her a few pats on the back.

Through her sobs, he could hear her push out an unexpected concern. "Dan, I'm not ready to have my heart broken all over again. Not over the same things. Not over the same person."

His eyes widened as he backed away from her, taking in her red, puffy face. "The same...?" The realization brought him to his feet and got his head shaking in pity. "Óh ne. Nem ez ... you can't tell me you're so focused on staying because of Rory?"

"Who?"

Dan swore under his breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Sajnálom. Roderich. I meant Roderich. You can't tell me he's the rea-"

"I'm not proud to say he's part of it, okay?" she shot back, her serious defense having returned for the moment. "Por favor no me malinterpretes. Dance has always been my first love. No matter what, that is how it will stay. I will dance until the very end. And it's not just him," she softened. "Maryann, Julia, you - I don't meet people like you often. You're all very special to me."

"Just not like how Rod is special to you," he mused with a tiny, teasing sass.

Her hands were back up again in defense. "Look, it's just... there are things I feel with him that..." she cut herself off, frustration wringing her neck harder than she could rub it away. "Maldita sea, ¿por qué es esto tan difícil?"

Dan stood back up and started to pace, gripping at his hair, to the point where he had to yank it out of its ponytail holder. This has become more serious than he thought, but he had no clue if it was a good thing anymore. "Ó Istenem," he mumbled, "francba, te szerelmes vagy."

"¿Que?"

He smacked his forehead, unsure of how exactly to react to the news, or how to deliver the news to his oblivious pupil. "You're in love with him."

"I never said that," she defended herself. She knew how bad it sounded one week away from her audition, but it couldn't have been that extreme. They were just feelings. They were having a good time. They both knew it couldn't last if she were to go home at the end of the year. It shouldn't have been that big of a deal, she'd tell herself. It couldn't be.

Dan wasn't having her denial and deflection. He sat back down on that stool and stared at her so seriously he could have burnt holes in her head. "Look into my eyes and tell me you're not."

Instinctually, she glared back at him - a learned response to any challenge - but she couldn't bring herself to say no without that warm glow in her chest making her lip tremble at the thought.

Her voice and composure broke as she finally answered. "Mira no lo sé. I just know that we're close, and maybe it's because I still missed him when I saw him again, and maybe it's because he's someone I already knew in a brand new country. Maybe this is just how friendships are in Austria and this is just how he'd treat any other friend, but even if it is that way I don't want to lose-"

Dan cleared his throat, almost as if he had just choked on his own saliva. "Sajnálom," he shook his head, subsiding his coughs in masked laughter and reaching for his water bottle. "I think I misheard. It sounded like you just implied that the way Roderich behaves around you is platonic for him."

Carmen almost started blankly up at him, with unmistakeable innocence. "Isn't he already this way with you guys?"

Suddenly Dan was the one trying to control a childish outburst as he paced the floor to keep himself from finding the eccentric little musician and shaking some sense into him, if Julia would let him, anyway. "Lány, te viccelsz? Atza. Oké. Nem fogom újra ezt a piszkos munkát. Nem uram. Nuh uh. Ajjaj!"

Now he really did have all of Carmen's concern. "What is it?"

Regaining his composure, Dan stopped in the middle of the floor and breathed deeply with his hands together - a step away from praying over the frequent messes seeping into his life. "It's nothing important enough to get upset over," he deflected with his own forced smile before sitting back down.

"What is important is that you have motivators to get you through next week and you have a passion to get you through this life. When you have something to lose, you're not afraid to fight for it. And I know you fight. It's just a matter of knowing what you feel is worth fighting for, and I think you do know, but you don't want to admit some of it to yourself yet, and that's fine. I'm not asking you to sort them out or do anything drastic - just accept how you feel and go from there. Everything else will follow. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And don't be afraid to let it be part of your dance. You're very driven by your feelings - that's the best part of dancing with you and watching you move. Nothing says you can't use those feelings in the moment to make artistic choices, tudod? Then you can make sense of that bend or that hold or that arch - whatever it may be. You would dance until the day you die? Then find it in every motion. You have friends to cheer you on - let their voices ring in your ears. He makes you feel you can walk on air? Then there you are on your toes! Könnyű! értesz engem?"

"I-Igen."

"Do you feel any better?"

She wiped her nose on her sleeve and let go of a forlorn chuckle through a less wiggly smile. "Like half the weight is gone."

Half. "I get it," the Hungarian sympathized. Hadn't he been there before. It wouldn't be wholly gone at this point unless she told someone else. Someone who Dan knew wouldn't admit to any sort of sentimental feeling unless provoked, like a certain foster sibling of this same someone.

"You've worked very hard today. You always do. I appreciate that," Dan said softly, patting her shoulder. The poor kid.

She was gonna break him with that smile.

He was half tempted to break Rod over that smile, over this whole mess.

"Go on, wash your face, cool down," he soothed. "We still have some time. Do you want to get some more dancing in?"

"Just for fun this time, okay?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way" he beamed. "Oh, and Carmen?"

His voice stopped her in the doorway. "¿Sí?"

"You won't let us down. Not one of us."


	30. The Audition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late November, 1991, Salzburg, Austria.  
> Friday. Audition Day.
> 
> Audition Day has arrived, and every moment counts.

Carmen danced as she learned to stand and walk. Her papá told her how she would bounce with joy and squeeze his fingers in her tiny palms, and each time she tried to walk to Mamá she wouldn't find her footing unless the records were playing. Without the music, the little princess would tumble and fall back on his feet, but she found her way with a centered beat. Even before then she rarely, if ever, kept still outside of sleep.

Only one thing in her life risked making Carmen frigidly still, and those were auditions. The celestial lady would dance uninhibited most every day of her life, freeing her mind from any scrutiny that could alarm her. Except at auditions. They were all about scrutiny, all about comparison, all about judgement. And telling herself that she only had to judge her work against herself was still not a comforting notion yet.

However, she made it a point during the past two days to be kinder to herself. Any soreness was remedied. Any tension was soothed and stretched away. It's just that the tension was coming more frequently on the day of, and the more intense cold this week wasn't much help.

And so she stretched as often as needed. She stretched and breathed as deeply as possible with the time and space she had. As soon as she had a few moments between classes, she'd find a spot on a clear floor. As she took restroom breaks, she'd relieve her hamstrings. Occasionally in her seat in class, she'd point her toes and roll her ankles and neck.

She would even have stretched as she ate, if it weren't for her friends insisting she focus on one priority at a time. If they'd let her throw a leg up on the table, she'd have probably done it without a second thought. Carmen rarely admitted to stress in most cases, but each of them had her pegged and knew not to mention it. By this point, they could tell there was a pressure in her calm and in her bright voice. There was an effort there that exposed her just enough.

But by this point they knew asking her about it was a lost cause. She'd shut it out, change the room, say "Don't worry about it" or "I'll handle it" or any array of polite ways to say Don't ask. So instead of bringing it up, they avoided mentioning the topic until the end of lunch, when they each finally told her to break a leg in there.

* * *

The audition was long and admittedly crowded. Swarms of people scurried throughout the hallways of the dance conservatory building, though Carmen and Roderich stood in the registration line, nearly unmoved, beyond Carmen occasionally shifting the weight on her feet. She said next to nothing, except when she signed herself in and received her grouping.

Any regular observer passing through the conservatory would think Carmen was in complete poise, without a trace of fear on her. In her own mind and probably among her friends, though, Carmen was steadily convinced there was still more calming work she needed to do before she moved forward.

She lingered outside of the warmup room, giving her legs a few good stretches and attempting to ease away her jitters. Tactically, she had her reasons for not going in the room just yet: she didn't want to risk falling into the temptation of comparison too quickly, and she knew her friend wouldn't be let inside as an observer. And so they seated themselves across the way. Carmen kept her eyes closed and mind tuned into her wall stretches and the music on her CD player; repeatedly switching from ballet, jazz, and her beloved Gipsy Kings for her free form option. Roderich kept watch from a chair nearby, anxiously toying with the strings of one of her bags. 

If there were ever times in his life he felt he took up too much space, the hour or so winding around this hallway was definitely among them. He liked having the space an instrument afforded him, but Roderich rarely felt he took up a presence. He especially felt so here, in a sea of artistic athletes, all preparing to compete against one another for a few slots. It felt even worse than being in a locker room or a gym, to feel so insignificant and intimidated. There was just something about the way nearly everyone moved and stretched that almost felt less like limbering up and more like psyching out the other dancers - a show of physique that almost embarrassed him over its effect on him. Scare-arrousal, from men and women alike. It could have been a personal heaven, if he didn't feel like he risked being eaten alive. For a moment, he wondered if Carmen also felt like prey.

As much as Roderich wanted to look down and keep to himself, he had to look up. He had to, but not to take in the women practically doing splits on the wall or the men doing infinite push-ups nearby to appear larger. No, he had to be sure Carmen wasn't closing and caving in like he wanted to do for himself and that she was where she needed to be. A rather risky task, the more he thought about it. It's not like she asked him to be there to keep her from getting lost. She knew him better than that. And it looked so easy to get lost...

Maybe trying to focus in on the noise to listen for her group call was overwhelming him with the clash of music from each room.

Maybe Roderich risked the sting of scowls and condescension from male dancers upon making eye contact, thinking themselves safer if they had to size themselves up against him. Maybe he had very little reason to think Carmen would feel the way the hallway made him feel, considering she still possessed a self-assurance he envied as much as admired. Roderich was still convinced, however, that Carmen should feel like just as much a lion in the den as everyone else there, and he was happy to oblige her into remembering that however he could.

But how? Why didn't she ask Daniel to be there with her and coach her through it, even if he was voluntary staff? Why not Julia, to give her "the hype"? Or Maryann, to help her check her form and posture and provide the charming, whimsical assurance of a fairy godmother? Why him, of all people? Why would she think to pick someone who was utterly so useless beyond taking up some space? What would he do for her in this situation?

In a moment, he had a chance to find out. The group before Carmen's was called in, and Carmen decided to take a seat, remove her headphones, and focus on her breathing. With her posture upright, she slowly opened her eyes. As she peered down, Carmen saw a familiar sight - a steady hand discretely extended to her.

Sliding her fingers down his arm over his sweater sleeve, she wrapped them over Roderich's hand with a firm grip. In the back of her mind, she worried if maybe it was too firm. She knew how much he fussed over them. That fear was assuaged quickly though. Before her embarrassment could convince her to release it, Rod's other hand clasped over hers, gently stroking its back with his thumb.

Rod couldn't find the right words to share, and so he said nothing. At an anxiety building so high, he didn't want to risk saying the wrong thing, but he knew how to keep his hands steady. With concerned eyes and a warm smile, he hoped maybe this was the way to provide her with any sense of calm.

Carmen returned the sweet smile and for an instant appeared almost docile. As soon as she heard her group get called in, she whipped her head around, as if the dance was really beginning. She sighed that determined sigh, put on her game face, and rose to her feet.

Upon feeling Roderich's grip loosen around her hand, Carmen felt herself hesitate and turn back around to reach for his hands again. Trying her best to brush off the momentary lapse and those concerned eyes observing her from before, the celestial lady let out a nervous laugh. Feeling her palms gently grasp at his knuckles, she felt the strangest sense of deja vu.

"Hey," he peered up at her over his glasses and gave her hands a couple small squeezes, "if I know anything about you after all of this time, it's that you're very good at proving yourself, and you have every reason to be." Bringing one of her hands to his lips, he ghosted a kiss before whispering. "Relajarse."

Her blush and quiet laugh broke through some of the last of her stiffness. Would he have done something like that for Dan or Maryann or Julia? Platonic hand-kissing? Carmen's cocky game face was coming back, and she leaned down to kiss his cheek - a motion that now prompted a returned peck for her. In the motion, however, the edges of their lips lightly brushed and they shared the hint of a spark and a moment of shock backing away.

The celestial lady's focused, green eyes peered down to him, her heart pounding in her ears. She couldn't help but imagine hearing Dan's sarcasm cutting through the moment.

Platonic. Sure.

Carmen reflexively bit her lip, like she could button down that bubbling tickle in her throat, wondering if maybe he was as stunned by the accident as she was.

Despite the intense blush dusting his cheeks and the swelling symphony in his head that seemed to drown out everything else, Roderich gently cleared his throat to mask a grin threatening to break his face in two.

"Right," he nodded and gave her hands a couple more reassuring squeezes. "Now go show them how ready you are to accept their admission. I'll be right here when you get back."

After a final return squeeze, the dancer loosened her hands, grabbed the bag holding her shoes, and skipped up to her group; discretely loosened her joints and allowing herself that smile too big for words. That pounding in her ears was far from frightening for the moment, and its drum was a comfort as she nearly floated in her step.

The last thing Rod could see before she turned the corner was her friendly chatter with other dancers: an emerging pride leader, if he ever saw one. An emerging pride leader who made the glorious symphonies in his head only play louder. Whose hint of a kiss sent shocks through him like no one's business - he dared not even think of them as being his own business. Whose warmth and light made the frosty chill outside a faint memory.

* * *

Rod had no choice but to break his word about staying put. He at least thought to grab her backpack, but God help him to recall and retrace where he and Carmen nearly kissed through a sea of people almost an hour ago.

He couldn't help but follow the Gipsy King music as soon as he'd heard it. He knew she had to be there. It was all that mattered. Never mind anyone else in the hallway, and never mind their looks or their judgement. Damn them for getting in the way, even.

They all meant nothing, especially as he bumped into Daniel, who took a break from room monitoring to witness his pupil's finest hour. With Dan's direction, they were whisked to the right room before the chorus came on. Roderich seemed to forget everything else once he'd witnessed Carmen in her full glory, watching her masterful enhancement of the music as the instrument no one realized it needed.

Roderich had only seen bits and pieces of Carmen and Dan's choreography from occasionally popping in on their training, but he hadn't completely realized the full range of motions and styles they had carefully crafted, having created a true testament to Carmen's strength as a dancer. Did she struggle? He couldn't tell on his own, but judging by Dan's bright smile, Roderich could assume her work and effort was everything to be proud of, especially during her ultimate flamenco break at the end.

When she landed into her lightening footwork, Roderich swore he could hear audible gasps come from inside that room, because he swore his jaw dropped out of sync. Was she throwing in sixteenth notes in those hits? Thirty-secondths? How on Earth did she make it look so smooth? Was she throwing in triplets and spins and jumps just to show off? The accents had to be on purpose, or did she just feel it that naturally? If anyone's feet could be so coordinated, they probably had to be hers, and judging by the consistently smug grin it was clear she knew it well.

Rod was so captivated by her impeccable timing, he hadn't instantly noticed Dan's hands grabbing onto his shoulders and shaking him like a rag doll in absolute joy. Did he risk whiplash? To Dan's surprise, Rod could care less, as he didn't fight to leave his grip or show any irritation to the contact. She had left the musician breathless and speechless all over again, even up to her ending pose and bow.

The intense quiet and note-scribbling to follow was nearly unbearable, and seeing Carmen's bright smile waver even the least bit on observing those professors analyze her so coldly made Rod simmer. How on Earth could they sit still? How were they not on their feet over such a daring artistic feat? How dare they not smile, even a little? How could they not feel a sense of joy and wonder over such a spectacle? Did they even understand the ray of sunshine in front of them? Was she redoing her hair to show her bravery or to hide her face?

In the silence, Dan could feel Rod's shoulders tense and hitch over the professors' quiet response, and he quickly guided the both of them down the hall and away from the room, lest this be the day Rod's ignorant offense on her behalf got the best of him.

"Easy, Rory," Dan soothed, trying and failing to hold back a smile. "It's just routine. They treat everyone the same way coming in. Even me, when I auditioned, they were this way."

"Well, they shouldn't have been, you know. I don't understand how they could commit so fully to restraining themselves over either of you."

Dan paused, a puzzled look taking over his face. "Was that a compliment?"

Rod's side eye could have hurt if his sarcasm were over anything else, but Dan found himself fighting knowing laughter at the huffy, little prince. "Am I not allowed to acknowledge your incredible skill when it suits me?"

The Hungarian shrugged. "You hadn't really done it much before to begin with, but you don't see me crying."

The Austrian let out a sharp, steamed sigh that should have let his shoulders drop as he ranted on. "Not even allowed to applaud excellence? To- to get the gratification you deserve? What kind of message does that send?"

"Oh, come on," Dan cut him off, still in good humor. "We're not babies. When you're that good, you start to forget it was even there. Thick skin. You know better than this."

Before Dan could respond, they both turned to see Carmen leaving the audition room, bag and cassette in tow. She held herself up proudly, but the celestial lady seemed dimmer as she let her hair down and gave her scalp a good massage.

Both men looked over to her, now collectively on their feet and overcome with concern. Had she heard them?

Feeling their eyes on her, Carmen perked her chin up and flashed her teeth as she bunched up her curls. If it was an act to placate them, it was a damn good one. They were nearly convinced.

The Hungarian jogged up to his pupil, feeding her excitement as best he could with a tackle hug. It was a hugs she had to reciprocate with all eyes on her, and she made it a point to sweep him off the floor as she did it.

As stunned as he was at the flutter in his heart over the gesture, Rod couldn't help but wonder if she was just playing the game with other dancers around - another chance she took to look invincible, perhaps. Maybe it was completely genuine. Maybe both. He could never quite tell, with how much she kept him guessing.

The quiet gasp he heard from her was enough to snap Rod out of observing and onto interacting. It was followed by a breathy laugh as she released Dan gently to the floor. "I maybe shouldn't do that."

"I'm amazed you can still do that, after today!” Dan praised her. “I think I got winded just watching you! You really put your all into it! Completely fearless! Jaws all over the floor! I’m very proud.”

Thoughts were swarming around in Carmen’s head - critiques, comments, congratulations, concerns. They moved so quickly that she wondered if voicing any of them would do her any good. In her mind, the audition wasn’t really over until she stepped outside. Etiquette seemed to be the only appropriate thing, when it came down to it.

“Gracias,” she simpered.

She seemed much too quiet. True, she still had her game face on; however, she was not one to be this hushed and serious with her focus so sharpened. It was like talking to a knight through the armor - it held up only as well as she did, and it wasn’t hard to notice she was tired, possibly struggling in the quiet.

“I... I should go change,” she nodded.

After a slight hesitation, Dan smoothed down her shoulders, understanding where she was coming from. “Igen. We don’t want you getting sick. Go ahead. We’ll be here.”

Carmen nodded as she walked past Dan and Roderich towards the restroom. Lifting her head up slightly, she revealed a small, blushing smile to the musician as she grabbed her clothes from him and walked past. It was a concerning smile Rod couldn’t help but return as he watched her walk down the hallway.

The moment was brief, but Dan shook his head at the night-and-day reactions of a certain emotional fool. Rod was mostly known to get bent out of shape over things that directly impacted him and crawled under his skin - teasing, failure, being discarded. It was like clockwork to hear him sputter and fume and roar over mundane things. His only exceptions to these rules were certain cases - ones that made Dan snicker over the old song and dance.

The Hungarian shook his head observing Rod follow her path, andhe couldn't help but give his ex a nudge and a sly grin while monitoring the hall. "You really haven't changed all that much, have you?"

Snapping back into reality, Rod eyed Dan somewhat suspiciously, peering over his lenses. "How do you mean?"

Dan leaned back against the wall, in a slightly wistful sort of way. "Remember the time we were working on Sweeney Todd and Popescu said my Antony was all-around flat - notes and passion - and you called him out on the pitch and after rehearsal we-"

"I know what we did," Rod scoffed, assurance lacing into his defense even as he straightened up his clothes. "His animosity toward you must have been blinding if he thought you were ever without passion."

"Don't you know it," Dan snickered, seeing that defiant, little pout and creeping blush. "Look, I know you don't get that way over just anyone."

"What are you on abo-"

"You looove her."

Those defensive, wide eyes fell into a deadpan more chilling than the frost outside. “Didn’t we already establish this?”

The Hungarian cornered him, thinking he’d just heard a dismissal and went on trying to prod. “Nah ah, you can’t fool me! You... oh wait! Atza! Hah! You’re not even denying it!”

“Because we had this conversation already!”

“Nah ah,” Dan teased, wiping away the tears from his laughter as it continually got airer. “I just thought you liked her, like a crush. I wasn’t sure you’d get this defensive of her over that. This is clearly deeper, if you’re this worked up! O, Istenem, you must have it bad!”

Letting a sharp sigh escape him as he crossed his arms, Rod reprimanded Dan through a tight-lipped frown. “Are you enjoying yourself? Are you happy seeing me like this?”

“Why, yes. Yes, I am,” the Hungarian stood smugly, reigning himself back in as he gave Roderich’s back a sharp pat.

The Austrian responded with a strained groan at the impact. Had Dan forgotten how to interact with lay people outside of the dance studio?

“Don’t you have a job to do?”

Rubbing apologetically over his ex’s shoulders, Dan turned them both to face Carmen as she returned, bundled up in her papá’s special sweater and a heavier jacket and feeling out her boots.

“Don’t worry,” the Hungarian assured his neighbor as he waved to his pupil. “I’ll get right back to it, once I see you both off. Oh, and by the way,” he made it a point to hush himself, though his laughter risked bubbling over as he went on, “if you’re going to give her any of the ‘gratification’ you think she needs, please wait until you’re home this time.”

Rod shrugged off Dan’s hand and turned his head sharply to glare at his ex, currently laughing at his expense. The Hungarian still knew exactly how to get under his skin, to the point where Rod would consider actually fighting him until sense reared its ugly head.

Sense here, however, couldn’t be farther from ugly. Carmen clearing her throat brought back Rod’srestraints, and he let his shoulders drop.

Again, he was at a lost for words over how to approach her situation.

“Ah... are you all set? I think I have all of your things.”

The dancer’s eyes widened quickly. “I had two backpacks.”

Recalling the other bag, Roderich smacked his forehead and let some panic seep in.

“Jawohl! Ach! Hure!”

It was the heavy bag, too. The one with all of her books. Where where they sitting before? Why couldn’t he take the time to remember, especially if that was where they almost...

“I, ah...” he stammered. “I will find it. I promise you, I will. There’s no need to worry.”

Dan rolled his eyes upon hearing Rod sound more like he was trying to calm himself. “The dark red one with the turtle keychain, right? I saw it. I know where it is. We’ll grab it.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll handle the bag,” Rod nodded and rambled on, even as Dan dragged him down the hall by the back of his collar, to Carmen’s quiet amusement. “It’s the very least I can do to make amends. You’ve had a long day. I’m dreadfully sorry. I promise we’ll be on our way in no-”

“You should step outside for a few minutes,” Dan advised her from over his shoulder. “The fresh air should do you some good, even if it is nippy.”

Through some of his babbling, Roderich could see Carmen meandering towards the door and biting her lip to keep from busting up. It seemed familiar, from another world away. If he were to be a polite mess, he might as well have been an entertaining one. Anything to see her smile. She glowed like a ray of light when she smiled.

“Earth to Rory,” Dan teased him, lugging the backpack over his shoulder. “You’re rambling to nothing. We turned the corner a little while ago.”

“Oh, would you let me be already?”

“What? Am I not allowed to acknowledge your less dignified moments when it suits me?”

“Hör auf,” Rod whined.

“No worries, your highness. I have to go back on duty anyway. Just be sure to show her a good time this weekend. She’s worked very hard, and she won’t admit it but she’s a bit-”

“Fragile over this. I’m aware. She’s getting a cake nearly first thing we’re back, so that should be a good enough start.”

“Nearly?” Dan said, wiggling his eyebrows.

That weary glare might never have gone away. “I have to make it first. I won’t have her thinking it’s store-bought. She deserves better.”

“Hopefully it’s enough to gratify her,” Dan snickered, “Not that you two couldn’t come up with anything else.”

Before Roderich could have the last word, his attention diverted down the hall to an alarming scream from outside.


	31. Nieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmen has a life-changing experience as she and Roderich head back to the Edelstein House after her audition.

It was a compelling scream - so compelling that Roderich felt he had no better option than to burst through the door into the cold in an instinctive panic.

"Carmen, are you alright? Did you slip?"

His questions were silenced once he saw Carmen standing there, unharmed, looking out onto the campus grounds dusted in white.

All he could hear from her was a whisper: "Nieve."

Rod looked back on his Spanish repertoire to find the word, and once he had his translation he continued on with a slight shrug: "So it is."

Carmen turned around swiftly, and Roderich could see a giddiness in her eyes and the shiver of excitement in the puffs of clouds escaping her smile. The flippant mood change, while nearly as alarming as her scream, was preferable to her silence.

“¡Roderich!" she continued, a little louder and cheerier, like she was jumping over hurdles of disbelief, "¡Está nevando!"

"Yes, I know." Rod answered her nonchalantly, "That tends to happen a lot here."

Her wiley-eyed enchantment had her so close to jumping and risking an actual fall on the stairwell as she nearly shouted through a squeak, "Roddy, hay nieve afuera!"

It was getting harder for her to speak as she let her joy consume here. There were even tears in her eyes from how excited she was.

"Lieber Gott," Rod swooped in with his scarf to gently dry her tears, "You'll freeze your eyes over that way!"

Resting his hands on her shoulders to keep her from jumping and slipping, he continued on as she hid her face in her hands, clearly still enthused beyond belief.

"Yes, it is snowing!” he reprimanded her. “Honestly! You act as if you have never..."

And Rod's eyes widened as it all started to make sense. The exasperation in his voice melted away and he was left with something gentler.

"Carmen, is... is this your first time seeing snow?"

The dancer nodded quickly, now hiding her face in her sweater. He wondered if the laughter she was stuffing into her collar might really have been the sound of tears forming. Hopefully they were joyous. He wasn’t going to dare asking.

Roderich could not remember a year in his life where he hadn't experienced snow, although he never had the chance in his youth to really enjoy it. It became a problem if his wheels would freeze and a cause for pain and discomfort regarding the braces. He had written it off as inconvenience powder early on that was only nice to watch from a window, and even then barely. He hadn't thought about what it must be like for someone to have never experienced it.

He did recall she mentioned she had barely traveled outside of Seville. She saw the rest of the world through school, a television set, and maybe some paintings and postcards from friends. She was the only friend he had who had yet to actually experience this kind of weather - quite a culture shock, indeed. Though he should have known better, with the way she bundled up and was so keen to cuddling. She clearly wasn’t used to freezing temperatures. Frankly, it should have been obvious.

Feeling self-conscious about dismissing her joy, he skirted his eyes to the ground and spoke with some guilt. "Oh. I'm sorry. I... I didn't know."

Observing her peeping her eyes out of her sweater and revealing a bit of her smile, she opened up to reveal her first thought - one fueled by so much excitement and awe she couldn't even think to translate it: "¿Puedo tocar?"

Once he realized what she'd said, he tried very hard to keep himself from commenting too harshly - he wanted to be sure to hear her correctly.

"Did you really just ask me if you could touch it?"

He was met by intense nodding in affirmation. She was behaving like a child on Christmas morning, she was that thrilled.

"No, only Austrian citizens are permitted. What do you mean can you touch it?! Of course you can touch it! Just put on your gloves and hang onto the rail on your way down. I don't want you slipping and injuring yourself before you even see it."

Roderich thought her moment would be quick. He was mistaken. Once she heard she could, Carmen stepped out from under the roof and moved quickly towards the thicker sections of snow, completely disregarding the glove comment. Feeling her feet sink into the snow, she shouted in what was almost a squeak up to Rod, who was still descending the stairs and trying not to panic with her behaving so carelessly.

"¡Dios mío, Roddy, está crujiendo bajo mis botas!"

"Be careful that you're not stepping on ice!" he called down to her in a mix of encouragement and protective concern. They were out in the snow fairly underprepared, of course - it was better to be safe than sorry. "Hold still for one second and wait for me! You're going to hurt yourself!"

Before he could stop her and to his dismay, Carmen had already knelt to the ground and started to pick some clumps of it up, just to feel the flakes between her fingers. The sensation caused her to cry and laugh out in joy and caused Rod's stomach to flip in anxious worry.

"¡Azúcar en polvo! ¡Es exactamente como el azúcar en polvo!" She turned immediately to Roderich, who was now right behind her and witnessing her hands turning redder and redder. "Feel it!"

With an aggravated scowl on his face, he scrambled to pick up the gloves that fell from her pockets, shaking them at her while in plain sight and trying not to smile. He didn't want to encourage too much of this carelessness. "For God sakes, woman, put on your gloves! I know it's soft, but it's cold!"

Her grin couldn't get any bigger as she picked up handfulls of the stuff and tossed it in the air, letting more of it fall around her and powder her hair and opening her mouth to get some of the flakes to fall in. She giggled down at the ones sticking to her palms, showing Roderich the remnants on her reddened hands.

"¡Está derritiéndose en mi mano!" Before he could slip her gloves on her, Carmen reached for more of the snow to toss into the air. He had to wait her out first, or risk being any more covered himself.

"Yes, it was once water. It will do that," he answered her, struggling to hide a smile at her playing. He was worried she'd start to roll around in it next if she saw him encouraging her, and he wasn't going to nurse her back to health while she still had the internship to maintain.

Thankfully, it didn't come to the point where he had to stop her from rolling around, as she soon recoiled her hands into her chest. She laughed through her whine, "Ay! It's so cold! It hurts!"

"That is why we wear gloves!" he reprimanded her with a tight grin and a few snug tugs on the gloves to be sure they were in place.

Roderich soon smoothed his hands down her arms, feeling her limbs vibrate under him. He quickly unraveled his scarf and gingerly draped it over her shoulders, sliding her hair out from under it. "Are you warm enough? You're shivering."

"I'm just so excited!" she beamed. "Oh, Roddy, let's make a snowman! Please!"

Propping her up on her feet as he got up to stand, Roderich reasoned with her. "Carmen, we don't have enough of anything to make one right now - I would even argue that we're underdressed. We don't have a lot of time to wait around for more, or we're stuck. We should get going before it falls down any harder and go back to my parents' house."

"Ooh! Roddy! We could sled there! Oh, it would be so much fun!"

"On what?" he scoffed incredulously. "Do you have a sled? I don't. It doesn't work uphill anyway. Come on. We really should get going."

"At least let me make a snow angel!" she begged, taking a knee and attempting to create a pile of snow to start with.

"It's much too thin right now," he argued, steadying his breathing as he stopped to wait for her. "You can't fall back on it yet and expect it to be soft."

She sat there pouting for a moment, but, after looking down at the little mound she created, she peered up at Rod. "Fight me!"

He looked down at her, slack-jawed. He could barely believe her stubbornness, sometimes. "Wie bitte?"

"Let's have a snowball fight!" she demanded. "Right now! You and me!"

"We are not having a snowball fight," he shook his head, reaching a hand down to her so she could come to her feet and her senses. "You would sorely lose. I can teach you on Sunday. I'm sure Hans and Bernard will want to have one."

Carmen immediately rose to her feet, but not to reach for his hand. She kept her hands behind her back and looked at him as if she were about to stick out her tongue at him in a taunt. "Oh, you wanna bet I'll lose?" she jeered.

Roderich did nothing beyond staring down wearily at her admittedly pathetic display. "Please don't."

Carmen attempted to press the powder together between her hands to make a snowball, but it was not sticking together like she thought it was supposed to do. If anything, the powder was sticking more to her gloves than to itself. Rod was trying very hard not to laugh at her persistence. The instant she thought she had a snowball ready for him and attempted to throw it, her creation turned back into a powder, to which Rod's response was to bite his hand to stifle his laughter.

She took off her gloves again and tried a second time, wincing at the sting of the cold.

Rod was on her case again: "Put your gloves back on, you crazy woman! Do you want your fingers to freeze off?"

"I want to hit that stupid, smug face with a snowball - that's what I wanna do!" she taunted him, attempting to throw another snowball and having it blow up in her face.

Roderich's serious expression was cracking from all of the laughter threatening to erupt from him. Soon, he allowed the smile to grace his lips, if only to play her game and win.

"I'll make you a deal," the Austrian said, the smugness radiating from him. "If you hit me with your next snowball, then I will fight you. But, if you miss, we have to get to my parents’ house immediately."

Carmen's pout was back, as she rounded out the snowball in her hands, trying not to wince at the pain.

Roderich's response at her frown was to turn his face to the left, jut out his chin, and point to the mole on his right cheek. "Here's a target point, to make it easier for you. Do be gentle," he flashed her a toothy grin and closed his eyes.

Carmen rolled her eyes, trying to act unsuspecting in the hopes of catching him by surprise. She discretely wound her arm back, ready to pitch it right in his glasses.

"Well? I'm wait-"

Suddenly a gust of wind blew through, knocking Carmen's freshly-thrown snowball back in her face with a thud.

After giving herself a good shake, she could hear an obnoxious, cackling laugh across from her. She opened her eyes to see Roderich folded over, little clouds trailing the air in front of him. Once he'd gotten a better hold of himself, he felt his laughter subside into airy giggles as he walked over to help her off the ground.

"You'd better put those gloves back on," he sputtered, "You'll need them, if the wind is picking up like this."

 

* * *

Roderich had a feeling CArlen would be disenchanted with the snow soon, considering how reluctantly she took to the cold. He was surprised she held out for thirty minutes. Their walk home was admittedly hilarious, based on how bundled up she felt she needed to be. Huddled into his side to protect herself from the chill of the wind, to the point where she was inside his coat, she had reached the hysterics of over-exhaustion. Hearing her shiver and speak was, itself, funny, but her concerns were on another level. 

She was at her hysterical height when they entered the house. At the sight of them, Mutti quickly gathered a blanket for Carmen and had her sit on the couch. The Spanish lady looked up to Frau Edelstein with sad eyes and reddened hands.

"I can't feel my fingers,” she sniveled. “Is this bad? Am I going to get frostbite?"

"Well, you did take off your gloves. That was admittedly not a smart move," Roderich answered her from the kitchen, returning with two steamy cups of cocoa. "On the bright side, if you truly have frostbite you won't even feel your fingers when we have to cut them off."

Carmen hid her face and her hands into her sweater with a whimper as Roderich snickered at her, and Mutti whipped her son's wet scarf at him for the cruel comment. "Try some of the cocoa. It will make you feel better."

"How?" Carmen wimpered as she reached for the mug. "If I can't feel anything in my hands how am I going to be able to pick it- oh."


	32. New Flavors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late November, 1991, Salzburg, Austria.  
> Friday. Audition Day, later that evening.
> 
> Carmen finally sees what five years of working in a bakery does to a person, and finds out she kind of likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - I won’t lie. This was a tricky chapter to write, and maybe I’ll cut it down in the future, but I wanted it to be as adorably fluffy as a chiffon cake while simultaneously being indulgent and unapologetically suggestive. There’s a lot cooking in this kitchen. And, yes, I did have to bake a flan to get the feel for this. No, I’m not a baker. Read me to filth, you peasants. Enjoy!

"Can you feel your fingertips again?" 

Carmen emerged from the blanket fort, presenting Roderich with a finger she hoped his mother couldn't see. "Muy divertido, Sabelotodo."

Roderich grinned as he saw her hands wrap around the mug, trying not to look too greedy for warmth. "The coffee should help. How do you like it? Cream? Sugar? The entire salt shaker?"

Carmen paused for a moment, the quip having caught her off-guard, and her weary eyes almost scared him. Almost. That sly expression wasn't fooling anybody, and the musician observed it in good humor heading back to the kitchen.

"A little cream is fine," she admitted, taking a moment to close her eyes and smell that gourmet coffee.

She figured he must have been in the kitchen from the echo of his voice. "Well? Condensed? Sweetened? Evaporated? You might as well pick from the best, now that it's out."

The dancer sat up straight, as if she felt the strange impulse to leave the comfort of the couch. "Are there really that many ingredients for flan?"

Roderich peeked his head out of the doorway. "You're welcome to see for yourself," he suggested, letting a coquettish smile grace his lips as he observed her bundled up tightly. "Unless, of course, you can't bring yourself to leave all of those comfy blankets behind."

She couldn't help but pout and turn up her nose, gathering up the covers like a regal cape. "Hmph! I will bring myself wherever I want to."

However defiant her claim, it fell short when she hesitated on her feet, catching her manners in the same room as the woman who assumedly knitted her makeshift robes. "Señora Edelstein, are there any blankets I can't bring into the kitchen?"

Looking up from her knitting for a moment, Frau Edelstein refrained from laughing at the comically tiny snail. "Just don't take all of them."

"And don't trip," Rod's voice sounded from the kitchen. "I can't stain Mutti's knittingtrying to catch you."

Carmen rolled her eyes as she trudged into the kitchen to find Roderich stirring something meticulously over a saucepan. "Sag mir. Do you like the caramel more for the flavor or the sweetness?"

She stood there frozen, a bundled mess clutching her mug closely. "You're making it yourself?"

Rod peered over his shoulder, noting her surprise lingering over him even while she sneaked over to the unnamed dairy section on the kitchen table and balanced the blankets. "It's just sugar," he shrugged. "Cooking it longer and darker gives it a toastier taste."

As she watched the cream touch down like a dainty mushroom cloud in her mug, Carmen inhaled the scent again and didn't want to imagine letting it go. "Mmm. Toasty anything sounds nice right about now."

"Perfekt. Oop! Hang on." In a flash he pulled the mould from the oven, shut off the stove, and poured and swirled the caramel to line the bottom, not even letting a hair fall out of place. "Can't let it dry up on me."

Carmen placed a stray curl back behind her ear and felt the blush on her face - a blush she hated to admit wasn't from the steam. "I didn't realize caramel was that easy to make."

"Ah, it's not that easy, really," he clarified, all the while intently lining the pan. "I've burned it before or left it too lumpy. It's actually quite a fickle thing. Made me have half a mind to grab store-bought for a while until I figured it out. Guck mal, sag mir schnell," he walked to her as quickly as he spoke. "Siehst du Blasen?"

Not expecting to be dragged in so abruptly, the Spanish lady did her best to translate but risked choking on her drink. "D-Do I see what?"

"Ah..." he stammered, "they're round? They have air in them?"

"¡Oh, Burbuja! No, it's clear."

He stood upright, proudly returning the pan to the oven and getting lost in he processagain. "Perfekt! Schön und glatt. Mensch, bin ich gut. Okay. Onto the custard. Eier, Zucker, Kondensmilch."

"It's right here!" Carmen coaxed him back, feeling an impulse to want to help. "I just put some in my coffee. You need it now?"

"Ah... moment, bitte," he responded from the counter. "Zuerst die Eier und Zucker allein. Aber das Arbeit ist für mich schnell."

Carmen was surprised she could sense her breath being taken away, though she forgot about the stunned look on her face and the blankets falling to her sides as she watched him work. There was something odd about seeing him speed along that way that disrupted her. She'd never associated him with speed. Even the way he separated the yolks from the whites and paced around with the batch seemed too quick to look so controlled.

"Oh, guau..." She felt stupid the moment she realized she'd voiced it.

Taking a moment to look up from whisking, Roderich registered her wide eyes and started to mirror her face without stopping. "Why are you looking at me that way?"

"I didn't know you could move that fast."

"Oh... Well, one must for custard," he reasoned. How he could remain so casual, how even his voice remained unchanged, was beyond Carmen. "It's a race against the clock with these two pieces. Then the Kondensmilch."

The Spanish lady peered into the bowl, noting the pull from the badder. "That looks like it's gonna be thick."

"... It is a custard."

"Bueno, sí, entiendo eso. I mean, won't that tire you? Don't you use... qué es, a mixer or something?"

"An egg beater?" He slowed to a stop, thinking the mixture would suffice as it was. "Pfeh! Not for a chiffon custard cake, I don't think so. They both require a lot of love and care to be made properly."

Carmen hummed in good humor, biting down her lip. "So that is why you cradle the bowl like a child."

"Jo, ein Kind fur Essen," he responded as he paced aimlessly, apparently not too absorbed in the mix to give her cheek. "Die beste Kind."

She shook her head at him, which subconsciously brought out his toothy grin as she reprimanded him through her own. "Sick!"

"Regardless, you must admit it would be rude to have my back turned to you making this when I don't have to... You can start pouring the milk in now... A little bit at a time though, please."

She hesitated up on her toes and started again. "Like this?"

"Jo, das ist Perfekte," he mumbled as he risked losing himself in the bowl. "Langsam."

Carmen wasn't far behind in getting lost watching something. "Langsam..." She could shake herself over how ridiculous she sounded - like a silly, swooning parrot. Like a helpless child. She wondered if Roderich would let her live it down. Part of her wondered if he was even paying attention to her. She hoped she was so lucky he wouldn't notice.

He spoke suddenly. Or, at least, it seemed sudden to Carmen in her trance. It was closer to a mumble than a statement. "Die Vanille?"

Instantly she snapped back into reality and went to the counter. "In this little cup?"

"Genau. Steck es ein." The tiny trace of brown was quickly lost in the badder before she turned for her coffee at the table.

Her next sip was interrupted by the sound oftriumphant taps against the bowl.

"¡Madre De Dios! You finished that already?"

"I wasn't lying when I said I'd make quick work of it," he gloated, coaxing her back over to him. "Hiaza, nimm den Schneebesen. So soll sich die Konsistenz anfühlen."

Carmen tried to hide the inevitable blank look on her face by rubbing her temples. "Ah hah... You're really testing my German today."

"Entschuldi-" he caught himself and started again, speaking more deliberately. "Sorry. We only spoke German in the bakery. It, ah... helps to focus. Force of habit. As I was saying, you can feel the consistency with the whisk, if you'd like. It is not so much a race anymore. Go ahead. Give it a good swirl."

She grazed the bottom of the bowl and didn't fully realize her eyebrows had jumped as high on her face as they did. No crystally, lumpy patches like she might have anticipated. Magic whisk, maybe? "Eso fue demasiado rápido. ¡No puedo creerlo! You couldn't get it to be that smooth that quickly."

"Funny, because I did," the Austrian teased. "You saw me do it."

Before she could sass him right back, she buttoned her lip again, thinking it was sufficient enough just to stare him down. It wasn't working - she could have died looking up at that smug, crooked grin, but she wasn't one to back down. "What's the next layer?"

"That would be the chiffon cake. So if you sift through the dry parts and I mix the wet, we'll be ready to put them together, and then we'll put them all together for the oven."

"Sí," she nodded, giving herself a few seconds to retrace her ingredients. "Ah... Harina, levadura en polvo, sal-"

"Un poco sal," Rod teased. "Otherwise there will be none left for the coffee."

Carmen gathered each ingredient cautiously, not admitting to the pressure she felt to impress, but already she was distracted from watching Roderich mix the wets. The way he handled each ingredient was like watching intricate choreography. Each motion was deliberate, calculated, precise, and yet still fluid - still poetic in his natural flourish. And still stupidly fast. But even more infuriatingly mesmerizing was the look on his face - so strangely meditative and sharply focused. Not a sign of stress. This was only after five years of baking. What could five years of dance do?

Carmen's attention was snapped back to reality as soon as she saw him grab an orange and citrus grater. "That's not in the recipe book, is it?"

Working over another bowl, Roderich peered up at her and shrugged, shaving off bits of the peel. "No, but it does add to the flavor. You do like oranges, right?"

Her face couldn't have fallen flatter, nor could her sarcasm have been stronger. "I'm from Sevilla."

"Right... Well, then I suppose you probably had some in your last flan."

"Probably," she shrugged. "You know, you really didn't have to go this far."

"What do you mean?"

She gestured to the room with some exasperation, at which he allowed himself to glare. "All of this? The ingredients? Making them by yourself?"

"I didn't milk the cow."

"Regardless, store-bought would have been fine with me. It probably would have saved you a lot of trouble."

"Oh, nonsense!" He shooed away her concern, giving the orange a good squeeze and circle over the wets. "This is your treat! After all your hard work, it should be something special. Store-bought cake," he grumbled. "Pfeh! There's only one place I'd go for it, and I'd be baking it either way. Here you can at least see so for yourself."

"Hmm, I see," she blushed, taking advantage of his moments of concentration to look him over. "So you're gonna spoil me today, is that right?"

"Until you rot," he quipped back, too nervous to look up based on how strange that probably sounded. That was the phrase, right?

From her sweet smile, Rod could only assume it wasn't that strange. "Oh, no," she protested, trying to keep herself in check, "I can't just sit here and watch you work and get tired all by yourself."

The dancer slipped over to Rod's side and snatched up the juicer once she saw his grip loosen, eager to do something to help.

"Hmph! Rather bold of you to assume I'll get t-"

Carmen didn't have to turn around to know she'd accidentally squirted some of that orange juice in Roderich's face. If there was ever a time to give into her embarrassment, this seemed appropriate. The Spanish lady swiveled around slowly and bit her hand looking at the tight-lipped Austrian stepping toward the sink.

"Ah... ah ja... disculpé," she squeaked.

"I needed to clean them anyway," he shrugged, taking extra care to rub the stains out of his lenses. Seeing him without them only made her blush worse. 

She had to find another way to shake these nerves: a subject change. Once his glasses were back on. She couldn't have him stare back at her looking as red as a tomato. Not with those eyes. Dammit, she had to start looking at something else. She had a dry batch to put together.

Once his lenses were clear and in place, Roderich found himself staring at Carmen sifting through her batch. Or at least, she was trying. He knew she mustn't have been much of a baker, but all of the various looks on her face emphasized how much she cared about doing a proper job. It was a heartwarming sight, despite her face contorting with all sorts of worry. He risked swooning over that cute nose crinkle again.

From the corner of her eye, Carmen saw him leaning casually on the counter looking her way. Once she heard him hum, her green eyes flicked over at him and she stopped working like a deer in headlights.

"¿Qué es? What did I do? Why are you looking at me?"

Breaking his gaze, Rod skirted his eyes to the floor and shook his head, biting down a smile and beginning to fuss. "Gott, you are so delicate!"

"I'm trying not to make a mess," the dancer defended herself, not catching onto any sentiment Rod could have expressed.

Registering Carmen's possible offense, he tried and failed to curb his teasing. "And you're doing a wonderful job, with half the batch still in the sifter. Guck mal." Roderich placed one hand on her shoulder and slipped the other onto the sifter, lightly flicking his wrist. "Take the whisk and start circling. It tends to go faster this way. You see? It comes down like snowfall!"

"Cállate," the dancer mumbled through a pout threatening to curve the other way.

"And there you have it," he affirmed, adding an encouraging back pat for extra measure. "All in one place. Gut gemacht, meine Studentin!"

"This flan had better be delicious, for your sake," she mustered a tiny threat, with the hope that maybe the musician would tone it down. Or maybe ramp it up. She was still undecided. "I don't know how much more of this cheek I'm gonna put up with."

"Alright, I've had my fun," he relented, smoothing down her shoulders before stepping away to the ingredient table. "We're almost through."

"Almost?"

"Genau, there's one more step for the wet... sag mir, have you any experience with meringue?"

Carmen tilted her head peered over her shoulder to him, wondering if maybe she misheard him, and approached the question cautiously. "Ah... you mean like Miriam Cruz?"

The musician stopped moving. Immediately he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying so hard to control his cracking voice and his sass at her words, both of which saw little to no avail. "I mean like Betty Crocker."

At the sound of his tittering laughter, Carmen stopped what she was doing and turned around, no longer hiding her red face or the wooden spoon in her hand, if it helped get her point across. Not being one to get huffy, the dancer scolded him with the most forced pout he'd seen on her yet. "Look, if you're just gonna be mean to me, then you're gonna bake this cake all by yourself. I don't have to put up with this."

"Oh, alright. I'm done teasing you. I'll be nice. I promise," Roderich sighed away the spasms and wiped away tear or two, waving over to her in the meantime. "Come here. You might like this better. It's a new form of merengue," he snickered. "It might warm you up at the very least."

"So mean to me!" she whined as she slumped her way over. "I say one silly thing and-"

"Oh, na na na," he protested. "You misunderstand me. That was brilliant. Der ur griawig! How often do you think I get to hear such things in this kitchen?"

Carmen rolled her eyes and bit her lip down at the compliment before bumping him aside gently with her hip. "Mhmm. Por supuesto. Hacer la pelota. I have half a mind to make you dance merengue in front of your family. How do you like that, hmm?"

Oh Good Lord, was she flustered? Over him? That seemed new. And welcome. And hilarious. And better than he thought, though he made a promise about not teasing her anymore. He stood a little taller and bit down his lip, now seriously trying not to upset her.

Which maybe upset her more, as she sputtered at him trying to deflect yet again. 

"¡No me mires así! ¡Tengo hambre! ¡Quiero mi flan! ¿Ahora que? ¿Que sigue? ¡Háblame!"

Sighing and flashing his teeth, Roderich coaxed her closer as he stood behind her as she faced the bowl of egg whites.

"Now watch," his voice buzzed against her back, tossing in a pinch of a white powder. "Hold out your hands," which she did, as he reached again with a large whisk facing down. "Now put them together over this, but don't grab it. I want you to roll it in your hands, back and forth, like you're in front of a fireplace, jo? Really keep it frothy. Can you do that for me?"

She started off moderately paced, hoping not to splash any more ingredients. As she went, Roderich gradually added in other ingredients bit by bit.

"Are you getting tired?"

Carmen scoffed over her shoulder. "You're kidding me, right?"

"That's what I thought. So you'd have no problem with me asking you to go faster, jo?"

Now he had a view of her side eye, quietly judging him. "Oh, this isn't fast enough for you? Safe in the bowl?"

Maybe she couldn't see him rolling his eyes, but she definitely heard him mumbling something fussy about her delicacy yet again, before he placed his hands onto hers and demonstrated the new speed. "Keep it here."

For a moment, Carmen resisted the speed, mostly to greedily syphon heat from the musician and keep him behind her longer. He wasn't kidding when he said this would be something that would warm her up, because for the first time in a while Carmen could admit to feeling overheated.

"Relax," Roderich soothed, leaning into her ear and causing that tomato-y blush. "You're doing fine. It's just a repeated motion. Quick and easy. You see? It's practically mindless."

Biting her lip and sharpening her focus, Carmen broke a smile upon seeing the foamy bubbles forming and ignoring the chill from Roderich leaving her to it. "You said mix until it's frothy?"

"No, mix until you get tired," he called, pouring the wet into the dry. "Then we'll switch off."

"Sarcasm?"

"No, I'm quite serious. The moment you feel you can't go on, please tell me. I’ll take over.”

"I'm not that delicate," she argued. "Who are you to tell me I'll get tired doing this? I could finish it, for all you know."

"Five years' experience makes me doubt you'll have a stiff-peaked meringue in ten minutes, and I'd rather you not hurt yourself. Just focus on keeping warm, make use of that caffeine, feel that burn - all of those peppy things you tell me. Just don't sweat into it."

"Hmph! I don't feel anything yet," she retorted, in a sing-song voice.

"Oh, you will."

* * *

Carmen had to lean her head back from the bowl, in her worry of letting any sweat drop into it. So maybe he wasn't lying about it being a challenge. Sure, she did feel warmer, but she wasn't sure she wanted to risk cramping her arm up. Not like this. 

As soon as she felt the whisk slipping in her hands, she called over to the young man taking a coffee break and enjoying the show with his work completed. While she expected more teasing from the boy, she was pleasantly surprised to hear the encouragement and constructive critique.

"Good job so far," Rod complimented her, cleaning the whisk for extra care. "Eleven minutes isn't easy for a beginner."

"So it's done?" She panted, standing taller and expecting to go to the next step.

"Not quite," he corrected her, checking the peak and starting back in. "Stiff peaks require some time. Roughly 20 minutes. Though this is a very good start. You should be proud. I didn't come close to ten minutes when I first started."

"Well, what about now? How long can you do that for?"

He tore his focus from the meringue and stared back at her with inquisitive eyes. "You really want to know?"

"Impress me," the dancer jeered. "How long can you do that for?"

"That depends," he hummed down to her. "One handed or two?"

"There was a choice for this?"

"Well, the egg beater was a choice, too, as was playing music to keep tempo," he reasoned, drinking in her reactions. "However, this way gives you a chance to warm yourself and gives me a chance to... show off."

Okay, she wasn't going to lie to herself about this. Seeing Roderich acting cocky and in his element was as strange as it was arousing. And he either knew that or he was figuring it out. Either way, Carmen was going to test it.

The Spanish lady strode up closer to him, walking her fingers on the countertop as she went. "Tell me, Rod, and do not lie... are there any other ways to keep warm in this cold, Salzburg winter?"

Rod peered down over those glasses to the dancer, who was now much closer and batting her eyelashes. While he held that weary, judgmental glare, a dust of pink crept onto his cheeks. "...Don't you have a coffee to finish?"

She rolled her eyes, sighing loudly and slumping back to the table, weaving her fingers over the cup and into the blankets.

"But to answer your first question," Rod spoke up, "I can keep it up this way comfortably for ... fünfundswanzig? Maybe closer to thirty five minutes. I only say it because I've overdone it before without realizing it. Now those were disappointing days, let me tell you. It's hard to be proud of overdoing it when there's an order on the line and you have to start from scratch."

"And what about on either hand?"

"Well, as you can see, I like to keep things consistent."

She blinked, clamping down on the urge to climb that boy like a tree. She hoped it sounded innocent enough leaving her in her state of shock. "As I can see?"

"Well, it's no help to me in music if one arm is more trained in one thing than the other. I risk bad form that way, na? Thank God nothing ever happened to my right hand to make me really need to use my left, but still - one can never be too careful. So for either hand, I would wager that's... what, fifteen on each hand? I timed it to the 1812 Overture, now that I remember. I was in a very deep Tchaikovsky phase."

The Spanish lady snickered at the warm feeling in her chest that felt like a nervous tickle and shook her head. "You're too much!"

"Of what?" He sassed her without a second thought, maintaining his focus but skirting his eyes to her and smiling at the sound of her amused hums.

"Something I can't say with your mother listening, that's what," Carmen sneered: another tiny, hollow threat. In the following quiet, she felt that glow creep up on her again. "You know, you're not that bad of a teacher."

"Really? You think so?"

"The teasing is distracting," she blushed but spoke sternly, "but beyond that... no se, the way Julia talked about working with you in the kitchen, I guess I expected you to be more... possessive?"

"Keep in mind there is a difference between doing something for fun and working under commission."

"Sí, you get the time to be a perfectionist."

"Oh, come now. I'm not that bad."

"Rod, you're whipping up a meringue by hand."

"You wouldn't be talking if you knew how tricky this was. It has to be perfect to work. There is no other way."

"Says the perfectionist."

"Now you've done it," he stopped and approached her with the whisk and the bowl.

Carmen felt herself bounce back on her heel at his approach. She cried out and flinched in surprise as he turned the bowl high over her head. 

The dancer couldn't feel anything splatter onto her, but she did hear another triumphant hum. "Ah, das geht sich aus. Now aren't you glad I made sure it was perfect?"

Peeking one eye open, Carmen saw Rod return the bowl back down with the fluffy mixture in tact and she felt like she could smack him. Her jaw dropped as she gasped in outrage. "I said it before. I say it again. You are not so cute."

His teeth were shining out in that charming way again as he put the bowl down. "Music to my ears," he beamed, gathering the rest of the badder. "Don't worry - I wouldn't waste so much of this that easily. We still have to turn it in."

"We? You’re a brave man to say we, after all of that.”

"I say we, if you're still interested in learning and if you would still be so kind," Rod pleaded. “This part is much slower, if you're winded. Come on, I'll show you."

Assuming he would come up behind her again, Carmen “begrudgingly” snaked her way between Roderich and the counter. He hesitated a moment, but caught on to her implication and shuffled closer.

"It shouldn't be too tricky once you have the motion down, but knowing you, this should be quite simple. Slow and delicate. Very relaxing."

"Hmmm, no se," Carmen forced a hammy pout and traced her free hands along the skin peeking out of Rod's sleeves. She started to plead back while casually weaving herself against him. "I'm so tired and cold after whipping this up. I may need a lot of help, if this is going to be the perfect flan."

Roderich felt goosebumps rise and fall from the hint of her touch to the unapologetic press that made his temperature rise. Those collar-tugging thoughts had returned at the worst possible time - time when his family could pop in at a moment's notice.

"Well, I did say I would spoil you with a masterfully crafted cake, and I am a man of my word," he sighed as he leant into her back and guided her wrists from behind. Hearing that contented hum and feeling her shoulders shimmy back gave him a better clue as to how acceptable this was.

The rest of the family would have to acceptthey couldn't use the kitchen for a while.


End file.
